Taken
by Paulina Ann
Summary: HB: 16/17 year olds. A kidnapping ring targets the Hardy Boys after a 'buyer' makes a special request for one of them. The buyer is looking for someone smart, athletic, and able to survive on their own and he feels that one of the boys will fit that bill. Why does he want one of them? Read and see.
1. Chapter 1

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine.

 **Author's Notes:** Some of the statements in the first chapter may lead you to think this will have sexual content, but it does not other than a statement here or there or an innuendo. Also, if you hate kidnapping stories, then go ahead and stop here, because that is where this is heading. Sorry. I like them. Also, this story does not directly follow a current story arc (as of 6/3/15) but I have started some stories where the boys are in 5th/6th grades. This story is in that time continuum and events from the stories already written may be referenced. Will probably post a chapter a week.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

"Hardy," Fenton said as he picked up his home-office phone. His eyes were still looking at the online news from Brewster.

"Fenton, it's Marty Loetz." The Brewster Chief of Police's voice rang with authority over the connection.

Pulling his eyes away from the online news, he directed his attention to the framed family photo on his desk. "What can I do for you, Chief Loetz?"

"Carl Walker's family wanted the name of a private investigator and I wanted to let you know that I gave them your name." Loetz hesitated for a moment, "We'll give you access to whatever you need."

Fenton sat a little straighter in his chair. "Is there a reason you decided to call me personally?"

"I wanted to give you the information about the Walker family but I also wanted to let you know that the FBI will be moving part of their operation to Bayport."

A cold chill passed through Fenton at Loetz's words. The fact that the FBI was coming to Bayport could only mean one thing. "The FBI, they think…." His words trailed off.

Even without him saying the words, Loetz knew what Fenton's unspoken question was. "Yes, Fenton. The FBI thinks the next kidnapping will be in Bayport."

After asking and getting answers to a few more questions, Fenton disconnected the call and looked back at his computer. The words jumped of the screen at him now. _Seventeen year old boy kidnapped… Human trafficking… Girlfriend released to tell of ordeal… Third kidnapping of a teen in the surrounding area in a month_ …. From what Fenton had read, a human trafficking group operating on the east coast was possibly in the Bayport area… at least in the nearby cities of Brewster and Southport.

The group's MO was to take a teenage couple between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. According to the teenagers who were released, pictures were taken of the teens while they were held. The captors wore masks and used emotional torture. The kidnappers would tell the teens what might happen to them when they were sold. Then they would tell them that only one of them would actually be sold, the other would go free. The 'freed' boy or girl was always traumatized. The guilt of being the one released was difficult. And so far, of the twenty-three known victims, only two had been recovered but it wasn't until after they were sold. One had been found dead and another one found after he escaped from the sick person that had bought him.

Fenton felt a chill pass over him again at the thought of these sick people coming to Bayport. His eyes strayed again to the family picture taken earlier in the year at the Valentine's dance at Bayport High. Looking at the two attractive couples his sons and their dates made, he felt fear.

While Fenton always felt disgust at what traffickers were willing to do to other people, he hadn't had the crime touch his family personally. Traffickers usually took people who didn't have anyone or couldn't defend themselves. That is why women and children from impoverished countries were usually taken. However, this group was different. The one escapee had told the FBI that the captors hadn't divulged much information about themselves. He had been able say that there were wealthy people in the US and other countries who were willing to pay top dollar for someone who met their 'specifications.' Disgusting. Criminal. Inhuman. In his town. He knew that he should be equally outraged for all those who were experiencing this on a daily basis. Now that it had touched him in such a minor way, compared to those who lived it, he would be sure to offer his services pro bono when he could to assist in apprehension as well as search and recovery.

His eyes focused again on the picture. Perhaps the fear was unrealistic. After all, Bayport was a pretty big city and they would take precautions with Frank and Joe. But those thoughts did little to abate his fear. His boys were drawn to mysteries and mysteries somehow seemed to be plentiful wherever the boys were. Fenton could only hope and pray that the magnet would turn and push the boys away instead of draw them in. The thought did little to assuage his parental concerns.

Carrie DeLano and Jonathan Byrd drove to the sprawling brick ranch house between Southport and Bayport. The house wasn't in a remote area but it wasn't in a housing development either. Carrie and Jonathan's boss, Larry Wiseman had purchased this house eighteen months earlier and had been making alterations to the basement and large three car garage behind it. This was how Wiseman operated and said it made 'Wiseman' not only his name but a descriptor of him as well. Carrie and Jonathan had thought it was a crock to begin with, but after working with Larry for three years, they had admitted that the man was good at his craft.

Wiseman or one of his partners checked out areas for months and before setting up a base of operation. Then they would make alterations discreetly. A small team of heavily trusted men did the work to make the house ready for its guests. The house would be kept for at least six months after the 'guests' left and the team would come back to return the house and outbuildings to their formal 'normal' condition. Wiseman had houses like these in the process up and down the east coast.

Carrie and Jonathan got out of the car and grabbed a bag of groceries in each arm and made their way to the back of the house. They had called before arriving and Wiseman would be there to let them in. It was unusual for him to be at a site during the 'takes.' Usually he monitored things from a distance. However, he had told them the 'takes' for this area of NY would be different. Supposedly, he would tell them tonight what was so special about this assignment.

After receiving the call that Carrie and Jonathan were almost at the house, Larry Wiseman had moved quickly to his bathroom to put in the brown contacts and cheek inserts. While these two were trusted, he didn't trust anyone but his two partners to see his real self. If something happened, Carrie and Jonathan wouldn't be able to give them accurate detailed description. Staying alive and out of prison meant taking precautions.

Moving to the back door, he opened it and let his two employees in. After helping to put away the groceries, he called the two over to the seating area in the living room. Once seated, he began.

"We've gotten three of our requested subjects. We have one more to go." His eyes lit up a little. "This last one will be _special."_

"What makes it special, Larry?" It was telling that Jonathan didn't even classify the subjects as a 'he' or 'she' but as an 'it.'

"Because the buyer this time is special for one thing. He's a repeat customer. He was pleased with the last two subjects we procured for him."

"Okay," Carrie said. "So what does he want? Boy? Girl? Tall and thin? Brunette or blonde?"

Larry smiled and it wasn't a pleasant one. "He wants a boy. For his purposes, they have to be smart, athletic, and able to survive on their own."

Jonathan frowned. "Are we grabbing someone older this time? That description doesn't sound like someone who is sixteen to eighteen."

Wiseman leaned back in his seat. "Oh, no. The buyer already has two boys picked out. We'll grab whichever of them is easiest. One is sixteen and the other is seventeen."

"And those two boys can do what the buyer wants?" Carrie's tone implied that she didn't see that happening.

"Yes. Perhaps you have heard of Frank and Joe Hardy?" Wiseman was pleased with the looks of astonishment on their faces.

"Are you kidding me!?" Jonathan shouted as he jumped from the couch. " _Fenton Hardy's_ sons? Are you _out of your ever-lovin' mind_?!"

Carrie joined Jonathan in standing. "He's right, Larry. We didn't sign on for this. Hardy will find us. He will track us to the ground to get his kid back."

Larry Wiseman said nothing for a moment as they ranted and raved. Leaning back in his chair, he said, "But you haven't heard what the buyer is offering for this special subject." That got their attention and when he mentioned what their cut would be, they sat back down. "Now that you are both calm again, we can discuss this rationally. We will have to take more precautions as you are correct in figuring out that Hardy will not let this go. The buyer specifically requested that we get one of the two boys and he won't pay for anyone else. So we either do this or he locates another procurement group."

Jonathan and Carrie looked at each other and nodded. Turning back to Larry, they both said, "We're in."

"Wonderful," Wiseman said. "Let's begin planning the Hardy abduction."


	2. Chapter 2

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** I was going to wait and post this mid-week but I am horribly bad about wanting to post often. The only thing slowing me down from committing to post two times a week is that fact that I haven't finished the story yet and sometimes I need to go back and add/change details. I'm on chapter 16 with several more chapters to go. So I won't promise 2x a week, but you should be able to count on at least once a week. ;-) Hope you enjoy my story.

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

Over the next week, Wiseman produced video, pictures, and schedules for the Hardy boys. He had had some other team members come to Bayport on and off over a two month period and gather the information knowing that he'd be taking the buyer up on his generous offer. A couple of times, the boys became suspicious of one of their watchers. When that happened, Wiseman had pulled them immediately. It was too dangerous to chance a second suspicion and risk being caught. When Wiseman showed his two underlings all the information, they plunged in to setting a trap. While they were making their plans the three 'subjects' they had already caught were processed and sent with team members to their destinations. This left the house empty so that when they caught one of the boys and their girlfriend, they could concentrate specifically on them.

.*********.

During the week that Wiseman was planning the kidnapping, Fenton Hardy was gathering evidence and conducting interviews with the families and victims in Brewster and Southport. Nothing came up that wasn't in the police reports. Each day, Fenton returned home without anything new to go on. He knew that the FBI was in town looking for suspicious persons and transactions but they had also come up empty. Joe and Frank had initially balked at the restraints put on them by their parents, but understood that they weren't to go anywhere alone with their girlfriends. They would always be together. All the kidnapped couples were taken when the couple was alone. So as long as they didn't go somewhere alone, then they should be safe. That was the mindset of the boys and their parents. In fact, that was the thought of most parents in Bayport.

No one realized that for this special procurement, the group would change their MO.

.*********.

At the request of their parents, Frank, Joe, Callie, and Iola had gone to see the early movie on this Friday night in late May. In addition to feeling better with the earlier time, Callie's family was leaving early Saturday for a wedding. Her parents needed her home to finish last minute packing and to go to bed early. Callie's house wasn't far from the Hardy's house and she apologized profusely to the brothers and Iola about making them drive all that way to drop her off before taking Iola home.

"I'm just really sorry," Callie said for about the fifth time.

Frank responded, "Me too." At Callie's surprised reaction, he laughed and said, "I'm sorry that I don't get to ride all the way to the Mortons' and back with you. I'll be left with just Joe on the return trip."

As Callie and Iola laughed, Joe responded, "Well, you know you could just let me drop you and Frank off and I could take Iola home myself."

Everyone stopped laughing and looked at Joe like he'd lost his mind.

Putting up his hands as if to ward off blows, he said, "I was just kidding! I know we have to go in a group. If nothing else, Frank has to come because Mom and Dad would kill him if he let me take Iola home alone." He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that they did believe him. No way would he flaunt his dad's directives on this. Too much was at stake.

Iola patted Joe's leg and whispered, "I believe you, but like you, I wish we could drive back alone."

Joe smiled at her realizing that he was lucky to have her for a girlfriend.

When they arrived at Callie's house, Frank walked her to the door and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He waited until she was inside and the door locked before returning to the van.

.*********.

As the van pulled away, Carrie pressed a number on her phone. She was in a dark burgundy sedan down the road. "They dropped the Shaw girl off first. Looks like we'll be taking Joe and Iola."

"See you at the point," Jonathan said.

"Right," Carrie said as she pulled out to make the drive to the point of no return as they called it. The point was the spot where they made the grab and there was no going back. She was in no rush and didn't have to follow the dark van the boys were riding in. She knew where she was going and where they'd end up. She just needed to be there to help clean up any mess. For the first time, they'd be leaving a witness so they had to do it right.

She thought about it again. A witness. That was a big change and a big liability. However, Wiseman had made an incredibly important point. The buyer had indicated that he would be willing to pay for the other brother in the future. If they killed him, they'd be wiping out any chance for another big payoff. They were willing to take the chance, but it meant being precise with what they planned.

.*********.

Frank kept a close watch on the road as he drove toward the Mortons. For some reason he was a little edgy. Maybe it was because it just three of them in the car and not the usual four on the way to the Mortons. There was nothing logical that said there was a problem. It wasn't raining… there wasn't even the hint of a car tailing them… nothing. Maybe he was just getting one of Joe's hunches. Whatever it was, he'd be happy when they got Iola to her house. Nothing would happen with just him and Joe in the car. The kidnappers always took a girl and a boy.

As they traveled the county road toward the Mortons' house, the traffic thinned out. Frank slowed down as he approached the area where a road crew had been working earlier removing pavement. While repaving was a great thing, the residue from the process, as well as the stone and paving chips, would wreak havoc on the van's paint job. Driving more slowly on the gravely pavement, he saw taillights at an odd angle. As he got closer it looked like an SUV had gone into a ditch. The lights were still on so he was thinking the driver might still be in the vehicle. He slowed a little more which got Joe's attention.

Joe, who had been chatting happily with Iola, now peered out the side window of the van from the backseat. As Frank cautiously prepared to move past the vehicle, Joe's eyes honed in on the license plate… or better put, where the license was _supposed_ to be. "Go, Frank!" Joe yelled to his brother.

Having been watching for the driver or possible passenger, Frank didn't know what Joe had spotted. However, he trusted his brother and hit the gas, spraying rocks behind them. The van fishtailed slightly as the van attempted to speed away.

Joe looked behind them and saw a person step out from the shadows. The shadowy figure raised its arms. Joe waited for the retort of the gun, but there was none. _Silencer!_ Joe thought in a panic. The next moment found the Hardy van skidding across the road and into the ditch with a blown out tire. The force of the sudden stop threw Joe hard into his seatbelt, leaving him breathless and slightly disoriented. Moments later, he heard the side door open and found a gun in his face. Looking up, he saw a masked man who stood at least six foot and was well-muscled.

"Get out of the van. No funny stuff." When Jonathan saw that Joe was going to exit first, he said, "The girl gets out first. Either of you heroes tries anything, I shoot her first, then you. Got it?" He smiled behind his mask at their serious nods of agreement. The girl was expendable, but the boys were not.

Iola got out and the assailant backed away and motioned for her to kneel in front of him facing the van door. The terror in her eyes was almost palpable. Joe got out next and knelt on the ground facing Iola. Jonathan noted that he seemed completely focused on her for the moment.

As Frank moved to the van door, he looked up and down the road and saw no one coming or going. This road was mainly used by locals and wouldn't have the traffic of one of the busier highways. Frank silently cursed their luck. He could only pray that these criminals were just thieves. It didn't bear to think of anything else. Actually, he didn't have time to think of anything else as he was pushed to the ground on his knees beside Joe. Loose rock from the road work bit through his pants and into his knees. They were all out of the van now. Moments later, another black clad male figure also appeared.

Realizing that their situation was about to get worse, Joe felt like he needed to try something but the moment he made a move to rise to his feet, he heard the gun cock. Looking at the barrel, he saw it was pointed right at the base of Iola's neck. Looking at the eyes in the ski mask, he realized he didn't have a choice and resumed his kneeling position.

The new dark figure moved quickly and hand-cuffed them behind their backs and then covered their mouths with duct tape. A dark opaque headband was pulled over their heads as a blindfold. They were now incapacitated and at the mercy of their attackers.

Jonathan had been the one to open the van door and Larry himself was the one who bound the kids. Picking up a small black bag from behind the van, Larry nodded at Jonathan who began to speak, "We'd like to thank you for providing us with what we needed. But we don't need all of you. We'll just be taking the blonde and his girlfriend."

While Jonathan was talking, Wiseman had pulled a syringe from the bag and uncapped it. Moving to Frank, he quickly found a vein and administered an injection. Moving quickly, Wiseman soon had all three teenagers in an unconscious state on the ground. "Okay, let's move quickly," he said.

Jonathan quickly ran toward the SUV they had used as part of their scheme. Moments later, he had the SUV pulled up near the teens. When he got out, he saw that Wiseman had gotten Frank into the back of the van and was closing the door. Moving to the back of the SUV, he opened the back.

"Out of the way," Wiseman said as he loaded Iola's unconscious body into the back.

Feeling a vibration, Jonathan pulled out his cell phone. "Carrie's almost here. She says there is no traffic on the road in front of her. ETA is five minutes or less." Putting the phone back into his pocket, he moved to pick up Joe and placed him in the back beside Iola. Once that was done, he closed the door and headed to the driver's seat.

As Jonathan loaded Joe into the SUV, Wiseman had taken a seat in the Hardy van. Starting the van, he lowered driver side window slightly and placed a white piece of cloth so it hung out and then raised the window. Smiling, he hit the lock button as he exited the vehicle, slamming the door behind him. Climbing into the passenger seat of the SUV, Larry pulled off his ski mask and grinned at Jonathan. That rag might keep some possible good Samaritans from stopping to help.

Jonathan smiled back as he drove away. Carrie would be arriving at the scene in just a minute. She would look for anything out of place as she drove by. If something was wrong, then she'd stop and fix it. If everything looked good, then she'd just drive on.

Byrd and Wiseman were quiet as they drove down the county road. They were eager to get a text from Carrie saying things were good and they were equally anxious to get onto one of the larger highways. Once they were on a major route, they'd be harder to track and spot. Not that they expected anyone to find the van and Frank Hardy anytime soon.

They had been traveling about ten minutes when Carrie texted Wiseman that everything looked good as she drove by. Larry Wiseman smiled. He had given the kids injections of propofol and while it would not keep them sedated long term, the amount he gave them would knock them out for awhile and leave them disoriented when they awoke since they were bound and blindfolded. He could almost feel the money in his hands.

* * *

 **One More Author's Note:** For those of you who are Frank fans- don't worry. He still plays a large part. Since the boys are separated, they won't appear together in any chapter until later in the story. Also, because of this, there will be chapters that are just Joe and chapters that are just Frank.


	3. Chapter 3

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Remember, some chapters will be Frank and some will be Joe for awhile. Well, quite a while, but I don't want to give away anything.

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Fenton Hardy battled to keep the worried father part of himself at bay while the part of him that was the calm private investigator took over as he spoke on the phone. "The boys haven't arrived with Iola yet?" He repeated back to Chloe Morton.

"No, Fenton. I've also tried the boys' cell phones and Iola's too. They're not answering. Iola called an hour ago to say that they had dropped off Callie at her house and were heading directly here." Worry could be heard through the phone. She didn't have to tell Fenton that it should only take the boys about twenty-five minutes to get to the Morton farm from Callie's. The weather was good and there were no known delays. And if they had been delayed, one of them would have called. "I've sent James to look for them on the route here. I was hoping that you'd try following the route from your end."

"Certainly," Fenton said. "That's a good idea. Laura will try calling the boys on their phones as well." Neither Chloe nor Fenton felt like anyone would be answering the phone when they called, but to admit that would be to admit to their fear of just what… or who… might have happened to the three teenagers. "I'll leave immediately and will call you when I find them."

Letting out a ragged breath, Chloe said, "Thank you, Fenton."

Disconnecting the call, Fenton drew a deep breath and turned to face his wife. "You heard?" At her nod, he said, "Let me know if the boys call and you try calling them on their phones." He went over to a console table and scooped his keys from the dish sitting on top.

"What if…." It was all Laura could get out before her voice caught in her throat.

Fenton closed his eyes for a moment and then turned back to Laura. "We have to believe this is something else. A small accident, cell phone issues…. Something. We have to believe that they will stick to their MO. Going after a group of three teenagers doesn't fit the profile." He didn't have to elaborate on who 'they' were. Laura knew.

Laura nodded at her husband, "You're right." Continuing to nod as if the motion would help make the statement true, she said, "I'll keep calling."

The shifting keys in his hand made a metallic sound, drawing him back to the task at hand. With just an inclination of his head, he went out the door. He knew that even with their hopes that this was something minor, something unrelated to the kidnappings, they were all too afraid that a nightmare was probably beginning.

.*************.

James Morton took his farm pickup down the dirt-path driveway a little faster than he should. While the small potholes in the path weren't that noticeable at a slow speed, they bounced him rather fiercely at his current speed. "Darn it," he muttered aloud as the truck swerved a little on the path. He had tried to be calm for Chloe but his stomach was a mass of knots. Everyone knew the kidnappers took couples and didn't take them unless they were alone. But what if this time they did things differently? If he was right, the kids were in big trouble. He just prayed that he'd get there fast enough to help them.

Ten minutes down the road from his house, James slowed and pulled off on the shoulder of the road opposite the van that belonged to the Hardy boys. He could see the white rag hanging from the window. He wasn't a detective, but he already knew that things weren't right. One of their cell phones should have worked in this area. And the rag in the window indicated car trouble and he would have passed them walking on the road toward the house in a worst case scenario. Picking up his phone, he called Fenton.

"I found the van. It's about seven miles from my house on the side of the road. And Fenton, there's a white rag hanging from the window."

Fenton shot a glance to the phone on the seat beside him. "A rag?"

"Yep, the kind that indicates car trouble."

Realizing that things weren't going to be turning out as they hoped, he said, "James, do you have any gloves in your vehicle?"

"Yes, I do. Some heavy leather ones."

"Put them on before you go to the van. We don't want to mess up any fingerprints."

James closed his eyes for a minute. He realized that Fenton was telling him that the van was most likely a crime scene. "I'll do it. Do you want to stay on the line?"

Fenton was torn. He wanted to know what was going on with the van, but he also wanted to put a call in to the police. "No. I'm going to go ahead and call the police. I'll call you back once I've contacted them."

"Okay." James hung up on that word. It seemed so bland and out of place for what was going on.

Before getting out of his truck, he pulled on the work gloves he had used earlier in the day. He had left them right on the seat, so he had them on in a matter of seconds. Moving over to the van, he looked through the window at the front seats and saw no one and nothing out of place… except for the keys in the ignition. Taking a deep breath, he pulled on the side door handle… locked. James stepped back to his pick-up and took a 2x4 out of the back. Slamming the end into the driver's side window, reached in and pressed the control to unlock all the doors. Once he opened the sliding slide door, it didn't take long for him to make out Frank's body on the floor. Dropping the piece of wood, James scrambled into the van and ripped off the tape covering his mouth causing Frank to moan a little. He pulled off the blindfold and looked over Frank's body for any obvious wounds. Seeing none, he lightly patted the teen's face. "Frank? Frank, can you hear me? Where are Joe and Iola?" Receiving no response, he called 911 for an ambulance.

He had just finished the call with the 911 operator when Fenton called back. He could hardly respond to boys' father. Everything was hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"James! James! You've got to tell me what's going on!" Fenton gripped the steering wheel tightly, desperately wishing he was with James right now. What was only a few seconds of silence seemed like an eternity to Fenton as he waited.

"Frank's here," James softly said. "Iola and Joe are gone."

"Was it an accident?"

"No. This was no accident. Frank was handcuffed, blindfolded, and had tape over his mouth." James voice was getting a little stronger now.

"Let me talk to him."

"I can't, Fenton. He's out of it right now. I've called 911." James sat staring at the prone figure on the van floor. There wasn't a comfortable position for the boy until the handcuffs were off. A curse word sounded over the phone and drew his attention back to Fenton. "I'll be here with him, Fenton." Picking up the 2x4 that he had dropped, he moved back to sit in the doorway of the van. "I'll make sure he stays safe until you and the ambulance get here."

"Thank you, James. We'll find them." Fenton's voice sounded strained even to himself.

"I know we will," James replied. "Now I need to call Chloe." His tone was resigned.

"Don't," Fenton responded. "I'll be there in less than ten minutes. You should tell her yourself and not over the phone."

"It won't make it easier, but I suppose it will be better. What will you do about Laura?"

"I'm going to call Sam. He'll go over and tell her in person. I don't want her left alone or trying to drive to the hospital after hearing the news."

"Yeah, Frank's going to need her."

"Yes, he will," Fenton replied. "I'm going to call Sam now. I'll see you soon."

"I'll be here." With that, James ended the call.

Fenton took a moment to calm himself before giving the voice command to call Sam. _Joe is gone. Iola is gone. They left Frank. They took Joe from Frank. He's going to be beating himself up over this. Yes, Frank is really going to need Laura. Who am I kidding?_ he asked himself. _I'm going to really need Laura_.

As promised, Fenton was on the scene in less than ten minutes. He could see the lights of the ambulance on the road in front of him. Fenton pulled to a stop on the shoulder of the road about thirty yards from the van; no sense in possibly destroying evidence if he could avoid it. Grabbing his flashlight and gloves, he got out of his vehicle. With a quick slam of the car door, he began jogging toward the ambulance. The open doors faced him and could see someone, who had to be Frank, lying on one of the stretchers. Reaching the EMTs, he said, "I'm his father. How is he?" Glancing over Frank's prone figure, he couldn't see any injury.

"There's no obvious injury. He does have a small bruise forming around what appears to be an injection site. From what Mr. Morton told us upon arrival, it would appear that he was injected with something that knocked him out. We won't know for certain until we take him to the hospital and do some blood work. Right now we're just giving him oxygen until we learn more. He's already starting to show signs of coming around." The EMT glanced toward Mr. Morton who had come to stand by Fenton. Turning his eyes back to the boys' father, he asked, "Do you want to ride with us?"

Fenton was torn again. Should he ride with Frank in the hopes that he would come to and reveal where Joe and Iola were? Then what about James? He had already told him to wait on calling Chloe. Finally, when the police arrived, did he want to leave the investigation of the scene to them and the FBI or did he want to be there to see what was found? That final thought cinched it for him. Frank would want him to stay and learn as much about what happened as he could.

"No, I'll stay here and wait for the police. My wife and friend, Sam, will go to the hospital to be with Frank." He watched the EMT nod and then they loaded the ambulance and closed the doors. Looking over to James, he said, "As soon as the police are done with you, go home to Chloe." Fenton then directed James to go back to his truck to await the police. Turning to face the van with grim determination, Fenton surveyed the crime scene. The beam of the high-powered flashlight went out across the ground. He could already hear the police sirens. The investigation was underway.

.**********.

Fenton was unsure how long it had been when James came over to him as he was checking an area along the road where it appeared a vehicle may have driven into a ditch.

"I'm heading home to Chloe. Chet should be getting home soon as well." James said to Fenton who moved to walk with James to his truck. As Iola's father opened the door to get in, he looked over his shoulder and said, "I want them both back, Fenton. It'll kill her if they let her go and keep him." With that, he climbed into his truck. Fenton moved back as the truck did a u-turn to return home.

Watching him drive away, Fenton knew that James had been talking about Iola. Joe would feel the same way if he were released and Iola was kept. His sometimes temperamental and impulsive son was also the son that wore his feelings on his sleeve. Joe would never let any harm come to Iola if he could help it. While it was something he admired about his son, it was also something that terrified him right now. Fenton knew his son would do everything in his power to escape his captors, but if they both couldn't get away, he would do everything he could to make sure Iola was the one released. The truck's taillights faded from view as Fenton returned to his task.

.***********.

With the aid of lights and sirens, the ambulance had Frank to Bayport Memorial in twenty minutes. In another fifteen minutes, he was assigned to a room in the ER, hooked to monitors and his blood that was taken in the ambulance sent to the lab for testing.

It was at this point that Frank opened his eyes and squinted before closing them quickly against the light. Opening them again, he saw his mother, Sam Radley, and… Con Riley. "Joe," he whispered to them. "Where's Joe?" At the look of anguish on his mother's face, he knew the answer.

"Frank," Con said as he moved closer to the bedside, "can you tell us what happened?"

Frank looked at a spot on the wall and focused. "There was an SUV in the ditch…"

Once Con had the information of two attackers in a dark colored Expedition, he radioed that to dispatch. The kidnappers probably had about an hour lead based on Frank's information. Once headquarters was informed, Con had Frank tell his whole story. It took a little time as Frank was still a little foggy.

When Con left, Frank's eyes turned to his mother who was at his bedside holding his hand. "Where's Dad?"

Laura's voice wavered slightly as she answered, "He's at the scene with the police."

Frank nodded. "Good," he said. He was glad his dad was there. While he trusted the BPD, he knew that his dad would make sure that nothing was missed. As the doctor walked back into his small curtained area, Frank asked, "When can I be released? I feel fine." In truth, he felt just a little off but figured it was due to being unconscious or out of it for… what had they told him? About two hours?

The doctor looked at Frank and glanced at Laura. "Your blood work had traces of propofol, which is an anesthetic. Nothing else was found. So, with a few signatures and with the understanding that you shouldn't drive, operate heavy machinery, or make legal decisions, you will be out of here in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks, doctor." Frank said as he leaned back into his pillow and stared at the ceiling. It couldn't be fast enough for him. Two assailants had taken his brother and Iola from him and he couldn't stop them. How would he live with himself if they didn't come back?


	4. Chapter 4

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Joe became aware of something rough on his cheek. When he went to brush the roughness away he realized he was handcuffed. Reality came flooding back to him and he knew he had been kidnapped; he just couldn't remember all the particulars. The movie. He remembered the movie and taking Callie home. He and Frank were taking Iola home when… he saw an SUV without plates. Everything came back pretty quickly after that. His head throbbed slightly and his muscles were stiff and felt sore from the awkward way he was laying. Moving slightly, he could feel the rough carpeting beneath his fingers. Joe could also feel the vibrations of a moving vehicle. Being blindfolded, gagged, and handcuffed, he wondered how long he had been out and how far they had been driven. His wonderings cut off as he felt the vehicle slowing down. Had they reached their destination? No. The vehicle stayed stationary for about a minute and then slowly began to pick up speed again but not at their previous rate. _Finally_ , Joe thought, _I'm catching a break_. Over the next fifteen or so minutes, Joe counted up the number of stops. He wouldn't know how many lights they had a green for, but he knew that they had stopped three times. Now they were back to a higher rate of speed. Obviously, they had passed through a small town. Hopefully it was one just outside of Bayport. If it was, he had no clue which one, but it was a start. After driving ten minutes the vehicle slowed and turned. The vibrations of the SUV changed. This pavement was much rockier than the previous roadway. After another ten minutes or so the vehicle turned again. This time it moved very slowly and Joe knew that they had reached their destination. He couldn't help his pulse from quickening.

Most likely he and Iola would be here for about a week. Based on what had been released by the police from the victims that had been let go, he and Iola would face rationed food, scant clothing, restraints, and emotional abuse. He remembered these things from what he had read. The hardest thing was going to be the separation. In every case, the boy and girl had been separated except for about thirty minutes each day.

The back hatch opened and he heard the two kidnappers indicating who was taking in Joe and who got Iola. In moments, he was being hoisted over someone's back in a fireman carry. He could hear gravel crunching under foot and then they went up three steps into the house. A short walk and they were heading down steps into the basement. A basement that was pretty cool in temperature. He heard a door open then they moved forward again and he was dropped rather roughly onto the cold floor. Within seconds of landing, he heard another body hit beside him. Even through the gag she let out a moan. He was furious at their abductors but there was nothing he could do about it.

.************.

Jonathan looked at the bound boy and girl on the floor. The boy weighed more than he looked and he rotated his shoulders to ease some of the ache he felt. "Same as the others?" he asked his boss.

Pausing for a moment, Larry responded, "Yes. We'll let them come around and then do the pictures."

"Sure thing," Jonathan replied. He had done this dozens of times. It would be just like the rest. Cuff the boy to the wall and leave the girl unrestrained. Jonathan smiled evilly. He knew that many of the male kidnapped victims who were let go suffered emotionally that they hadn't encouraged the female victim to run when they had a chance. Not that any of them could ever have escaped. Of course Joe wouldn't have to worry about emotional suffering over this as he would be staying.

Moving over to Joe, he nudged him with the toe of his boot. "I know you have to be awake by now, Joe. The drug should be almost out of your system." He nudged the boy again. No matter. "Just know that if you try anything, it'll go bad for the girl." With that, he drug Joe over to the wall and proceeded to release Joe's arms. When Joe let out a hiss as his arms returned to a natural position, Jonathan chuckled. "I knew you were awake. Be smart and don't try anything. You're arms are too numb to be effective in a fight." Proceeding quickly, Jonathan had Joe secured to the cinderblock wall in just a minute or two. With a quick tug he removed the blindfold and then ripped off the tape. Watching Joe blink against the light, he stood and moved to the girl. In just a few moments she was free also. However, she was just beginning to come around. "Always takes the girls longer," he said to Joe. Walking over to the door, he stopped at the light switch. We'll be back in thirty minutes to start prepping the two of you for the buyers. Then with a flick of his wrist, the room was returned to darkness and he left.

"Iola," Joe said softly. He realized he didn't need to speak softly so he tried again at a normal tone when he didn't get an answer. "Iola. Wake up. Your hands are untied. You can take off the blindfold and pull the tape off your mouth." He heard a rustling sound.

"Joe?" Iola's voice was soft and frightened. "Where are you? I can't… I can't see anything."

"We're in a basement and they turned the lights off." Joe hesitated a moment and then said. "I'm basically handcuffed to the wall."

"I'm coming over to you, just keep talking." Iola's voice was stronger now that she had a purpose.

"No. I think it would be better if you were able to turn on the lights."

Iola thought for a moment. "I think you're right, but how can I find them?"

"Go in the opposite direction of my voice. There's nothing in here with us except a toilet, so you won't run into anything. The switch is next to the door."

"Got it."

Joe could hear her moving across the floor.

"Talk to me, Joe. It'll make me feel better. What's happened since we've been knocked out?"

Though her voice was stronger, he could still hear the tremor in her voice. "I haven't been awake much longer than you have," he began. Joe was afraid the room was bugged and didn't want to give away anything that he had learned to the kidnappers. So he only told her what had occurred since they had been put in the room.

Iola stopped crawling when she found the wall and started feeling along it for the door. As she moved she asked, "When they said they're going to take pictures of us… Will we have our clothes on?"

"I… I think so," Joe replied. From what he had read, they wouldn't have on much, but they wouldn't be nude. It was just a small bit of comfort for her although he knew that the experience was going to be traumatizing for her. Having strange men take pictures of her in her underwear was going to be a memory that would be hard for her to forget. Knowing that someone wanted pictures of them in just underwear wasn't a comforting thought either. The lights flashed on and he again blinked rapidly at the sudden increase in brightness. But at least the brightness took away the thought of what was to come.

"Joe?" Iola's voice was hesitant.

"What?"

"The door's unlocked." Iola pulled the door only open an inch and peeked out. Closing it, she said, "I don't see anyone."

"Go," he said. He didn't have to think about this. It was a ploy by the kidnappers. No one had ever escaped but then they also hadn't killed anyone who tried.

"No!" She sounded irritated.

"Iola-"

"I'm not leaving you here chained to a wall." She walked over to him and sat on the floor beside him. Iola looked at the restraints holding Joe. He was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall and his arms parallel to the floor. The shackles were padded and had about six inches of chain that went to a heavy metal bracket securely fixed in the wall. There was no way she could get him out of this.

He leaned his head back against the wall and looked at her. "Will you at least go out and see what you can find?"

Iola thought for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to see if there was any method of communication or perhaps a window to give her an idea of where they were. "Okay," she said simply as she stood. After walking briskly to the door, she stopped with her hand on the knob and drew a deep breath. Easing the door open, she looked out and saw no one in what appeared to be a long, narrow room. The stairs leading out of the basement were in front of her. She quietly moved to them and with a last glance at the room where Joe was chained, she climbed them. At the top of the stairs, she once again drew a deep breath and turned the knob. Locked. Quietly she headed back down the steps and proceeded to try the two other doors in the basement. One was locked and the other was similar to the room where Joe was. Iola shuddered as she realized that this room was probably hers. Returning to Joe, she sat down beside him and told him the grim news.

Once Joe realized there wasn't a chance at escape yet, he began to whisper to Iola what he had figured out in the SUV. She didn't ask him anything, she knew that he was telling her this information in case he was kept and she was released. She began repeating the information over in her mind after he finished, determined to commit what he learned to memory.

.***************.

Upstairs, the three kidnappers watch the security camera feed from the basement. The cameras were very small and even if the Hardy kid hadn't seen them yet, he would. What they had seen and heard so far indicated that this young pair would have to be watched closely. Unlike most of the kids they captured, these two weren't completely cowed by their situation. Joe had encouraged the girl to check out the building and she had gone. Yes, they would have to be watched… and perhaps given a reminder of who was in control.


	5. Chapter 5

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank has to wait a couple more before he comes back. Just a small warning that the content of this chapter (and probably a couple more) could be sensitive to some people. This is nothing graphic or violent, but I just want to err on the side of caution.

Thanks for all the nice reviews. It encourages me to post more. ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Joe felt Iola move closer to him as the door to their room opened. It appeared to be the taller of the two men who had been in there earlier. He was masked and carried a billy club. Following on his heels was the slightly shorter masked man and in his hand was a digital camera. This was the point at which the couples were usually separated and Joe held his breath as he waited.

Larry put the camera in his shirt pocket. They had seen it and he knew that they understood what it was for. Walking a few steps closer, he pointed to Iola and said, "Stand up and walk over here."

Iola's eyes fluttered to Joe and back as she hesitantly stood up and took a few steps closer to the man dressed in black.

Larry looked her up and down and smiled behind his mask as she wrapped her arms tightly around her. "Take your clothes off." Her eyes widened as she looked at him. "Now, girl." He watched as she gave a nervous glance to his partner and back. "He's here in case you don't feel like cooperating."

Nodding her head, Iola began to slowly remove her clothing in front of these two strange men. She couldn't help it that her hands were shaking.

"Wait," Larry said as he stepped forward. He actually laughed when she gasped as he grabbed her arm. His laugh continued as the boy on the floor made useless threats that he couldn't follow through on. It only served to egg Larry on. Pulling her roughly by the arm, he spun her to face Joe. "Here, girl. Maybe this will make it easier. Take your clothes off for him."

Joe looked up into Iola's frightened eyes, "It's okay, Iola." He glanced over at the tall masked man who had started slapping the baton in his hand. "You can do this." Aside from being livid that they were making Iola strip, he wondered why they had deviated from their normal MO which was to separate the couple before taking pictures. And then he got a clue.

"Enjoying the show, Joe?" Larry asked with a laugh.

Joe looked into Iola's eyes as she continued to remove her clothing, he realized that the captors had only referred to Iola as 'girl' when they spoke to her. But when he was addressed, it was usually by his name. Iola's purse and his wallet had both been taken so they knew both their names and had most likely been watching them for several days. If they knew who he was, chances were that he was the intended object of the kidnapping. Joe glanced over at the men, if they knew he was Fenton Hardy's son… his stomach turned a little at the thought of what the person who bought him might want him for. The only good thing was that it meant Iola would go free.

Iola dropped her last piece of clothing to the floor and stood in her bra and panties with her arms tightly clasped in front of her. She looked into Joe's eyes one last time and then turned to face her abductors. They had thought it would be degrading or maybe just cruel to make her strip in front of her boyfriend. However, as she had stared into Joe's eyes, she had seen nothing but his strength and encouragement. They would get through this together. With a calming breath she lifted her chin and waited for her instructions.

Larry had watched the pair as the girl took off her clothes. They remained irritatingly calm. He had thought that making her disrobe in front of him while they watched would push them over the edge, but it hadn't. Now as he took the pictures of the girl… what was her name? Irene? No, something else…. He'd had to look at his info again, he couldn't be careless. As he took her pictures, nothing changed. He thought of making her strip nude, that would be sure to set the Hardy kid off, but decided against it. They needed to stick to their normal methods as much as possible. They had already deviated slightly. The buyer didn't want it known that Joe Hardy had been specifically selected… it would make it harder to get the brother if the buyer wanted him. Luckily, it wouldn't be difficult for people to think that Joe had been selected at random. He had the attributes of all the teens that were taken: physically fit and attractive. No one would suspect that Joe had been taken for any other reason unless they screwed something up. As he finished snapping a few pictures that wouldn't even be used, he knew that this was money in the bank.

"Over there," Larry pointed to the far corner of the room. "Sit with your back against the wall and don't get up." With a jerk of his head, he motioned Jonathan to move over to that side of the room. Turning to Joe, he said, "Make any stupid moves and he'll take it out on her first." Kneeling down, he began to undo the cuffs on Joe's wrist.

"Wouldn't you be worried about damaging the merchandise?" Joe asked as he watched the man closely.

"Nah. We've already got the pictures. If she's bought, we'd just deduct some money from the final price."

Joe gently rubbed his aching wrists once both cuffs were off. Having gone from being restrained in the SUV to the wall of the basement, his wrists hadn't gotten a break. Moving carefully, Joe stood and leaned against the wall. His muscles were stiff and aching. It had to be well after midnight now and his body was protesting the treatment it had received. As he leaned against the wall, another figure entered the room. It was a woman. Joe watched as she picked up Iola's clothes and dropped them in a basket. His attention was drawn back to the man who had released him.

"Take four steps over to your right and strip there. Be sure to toss your clothes over to the side."

Joe's eyes moved about the room as he removed his clothing. Finally, his eyes were drawn to one of the room's corners. A small circular indention was in the molding. _A camera_ , he quickly thought without surprise. It would have been ridiculous to leave them in a basement without some type of monitoring system. Joe barely paused in his disrobing after his discovery. It didn't really matter whether they knew that he knew the system was there and it wasn't something he could do anything about. Soon he was standing in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He refused to cross his arms over his chest in discomfort but looked the shorter of the two men in the eye.

Seeing the challenge in Joe Hardy's eyes as he stood in nothing but his underwear, Larry couldn't help but laugh. "It all makes sense now." Shaking his head he turned for the door. Calling back, he said, "Grab his clothes and leave them together for a bit and then move the girl to her room."

As the three captors were leaving, Iola moved quickly to Joe and even though they were undressed, she pressed close to his side.

Joe could feel her tension and nervousness. "It's going to be okay," he said as his arm moved to hold her against his side.

Pushing back a little, Iola looked up at him. "How can you say that?"

Knowing that the camera was there, he turned his body so that they couldn't see his face. Who knew if there was an audio feed, but he wouldn't aid them further by allowing them to see what he was saying. Lowering his voice, he said, "They have a camera in here. We'll need to speak softly."

"Okay," she whispered back. "But it doesn't answer my question as to why this is going to be okay."

He realized his mistake now. What was going to be 'okay' for him was her being released. She would in no way define 'okay' as him being sold while she was freed. Pulling her close again, he whispered, "We're together and we'll get through this. Even when they separate us, we're together in this." Joe felt Iola nod and let out a small sigh of relief that she accepted that explanation. When the kidnapper had said that things made sense now, he had been looking at Joe. For things 'to make sense' now, meant that they made sense AFTER he saw what Joe was like… which meant that he had been chosen on purpose.


	6. Chapter 6

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank makes his return in Chapter 7! Just a small warning that the content of this chapter could be sensitive to some people. This is nothing graphic or violent.

An extra chapter this week to celebrate my first day of summer break. :-) And the fact that since I'm home today, I'm getting a chance to write a lot. I'm on Chapter 22 now!

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

The days passed very slowly for Joe and Iola. After their horrendous first night of being kidnapped, striping, and being photographed, things had settled into a pattern. They had been separated and kept apart for an indeterminate amount of time. There was no concept of morning or night as they didn't have access to a clock and the basement rooms were windowless. Once Iola was taken from him, he had surveyed his room and found there was no way out. The two vents in the room were too small for him or Iola to go through and the ceiling was finished drywall. Unlike when they first arrived, Joe found his door to be locked. After examining the metal door whose hinges were on the other side, he knew that he couldn't get out that way. The door also had a peep hole so that they could make sure where the occupant was. So between that and the camera, there was no way for him to get the drop on them when they entered the room.

Joe noticed that the kidnappers seemed to take pleasure in turning the lights on and off on a whim. When they decided to turn off the lights from outside of the room, the switch in the room didn't work. Joe decided it was a way to keep them off-balance as it further added to their problem with determining time. They were also fed once a day but the time seemed to change each day.

The good thing about their meal, besides being the only food they got, was the chance to see each other. Iola was always brought to his room for the meal. They were allowed anywhere from fifteen minutes to about an hour. Once again, it was never consistent. Whenever he asked, Iola always said they never touched her. It was the only decent thing he could say about his kidnappers. When they came to his room at various times in the day, they enjoyed regaling him with things that might happen to him if he was bought. He made a point to just stare at the wall and not respond. With his personality, it was a hard thing to do, but he knew they were trying to wear him down emotionally. The sad thing was, he was certain that other victims did have those horrific things done to them. It was all he could do to keep the meager contents of his stomach down with some of the things they told him.

The only break that Joe got regarding their situation was when they were brought their fourth meal. The kidnappers made a mistake. Biting hungrily into the burger he was given, Joe immediately tasted the tangy mustard that was a signature sauce. Denton's Grill. He and Frank had eaten at the Grill any number of times on their way back and forth to Southport with their dad. There was no mistaking it on this burger. Joe noticed that Iola didn't seem to find anything unusual, but then, her parents probably didn't make a trip to Southport as often as their dad did. With the information about the stoplights and the roads, his dad and brother would have a chance at finding him. Joe controlled his features. He couldn't give away the glee that he felt at this blunder by the kidnappers. Finally, there was a break for him.

After the meal, he hurriedly told Iola about the mustard. She seemed doubtful.

"Joe, are you sure? This is basing a lot on a burger," she whispered to him.

"I'm certain. Promise me you'll tell Dad."

"I will if I'm the one released. If not, you can tell him," Iola said as she leaned against him. They were both on the dirty side from not having bathed in days and not being able to wash up before or after they ate. However, hygiene wasn't their primary concern and hadn't been for awhile.

"Look at me," Joe whispered. When her eyes looked curiously into his, he said, "I'm pretty sure that you'll be released."

She pulled back from him a little but still looked him in the eye as she whispered, "Why do you think that? Did they say something?"

Joe explained his reasoning from his name being used, to the comment one of them had made. "They also threatened to hurt you but they never came close to putting a mark on me."

"Probably because they already knew I would do what they wanted to protect you," Iola reasoned back.

Shrugging, Joe said, "You could be right, but if I am, you've got to tell Dad and Frank about the stops, the drive, and Denton's." Seeing her nod her agreement, he continued, "And you can't feel any guilt about being released. You know I would rather they keep me than you."

"You can't ask that of me," she said even more softly than before.

"I can."

"But you know if you are released, I hold you to same," she responded. When he easily agreed to her request, she knew that he truly believed that he would be kept. She hugged him fiercely as panic set in. This could be the last time she saw him and it terrified her.

Sensing her panic, Joe held her tight and whispered reassurances that did little to help. When they came for her to return to her cell, they practically had to pull her off of him.

Once she was out, the tall man looked at the calm teen before him. "You've figured it out?"

Joe nodded. "You're keeping me." He watched the man closely.

"She'll be okay. We won't harm her when we let her go. You on the other hand…" He made a show of rubbing his hands together. "The buyer can hardly wait to get his hands on you." With a laugh, he turned and left the room.

Joe knew he had made that particular statement to get Joe's mind working. And Joe hated to admit it but it worked. Was he going to be a sex slave? Did the buyer plan on hurting him physically? The questions were just too many. As the lights went out, Joe laid down. His eyes were open and he knew it had been hours when his door opened and he blinked at the brightness.

The lights flipped on and he saw Iola being pulled into the room. The three captors came in with her. This time, the tall man had a taser with him. It looked like they weren't going to take a chance on Joe making a break for it.

"The buyer has made a decision," Larry said. "He wants the boy."

Iola eyes turned to Joe. She hadn't been privy to Joe's previous conversation with the kidnapper. All she knew was he had been right and if he was right about this, he was probably right about that mustard. Just seconds later the woman in black was beside her putting a needle in her arm. As Iola slumped toward the floor and unconsciousness, she heard one of the men say, "I think the buyer will be happy with this brother."

Joe watched as the woman who had drugged Iola walked out the door and returned with a large tee shirt. She awkwardly put it on Iola.

"Time to get you ready, Joe," Larry said. "Kneel facing the wall. And just know that you're girlfriend's unconscious and can't protect herself, so mind your manners."

Joe did as he was told and soon handcuffs were on his wrists and a blindfold over his eyes. At least they hadn't gagged him yet.

"You just sit down here, pretty boy, while we drop your girlfriend off. We'll be back soon to finish getting you ready for the buyer."Flipping off the lights to complete the darkness for Joe, Larry left the room.

With that, Joe Hardy was literally left in the dark to contemplate his uncertain future.


	7. Chapter 7

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Frank chapter. For those of you wishing nothing bad happens to Joe… um. I won't say anything. For those of you hoping that something bad happens to Joe… um. I won't say anything. Hopefully I'll find a way to make everyone happy. Yeah, right. ;-) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

*Okay, so this is a faster posting than I expected. I'm usually good about sticking to my posting schedule, but I really like this story. The end of the writing process is in sight. I'm on chapter 28 and think there will only be a few more chapters to complete this story. So with the thought that I am finishing up, I thought I'd put out a chapter today. The good thing is... if I'm on a Sunday/Wednesday posting schedule, I may just post another chapter tomorrow. And yes, Joe fans, Joe will be back in Chapter 8. ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Four days after the abduction, Frank sat in his father's office with Sam Radley. The two of them were watching video from some traffic cameras from the day before and the day of the abduction. It was their hope to find a dark SUV and get a possible plate and picture of the driver. The footage from around the movie theater had been watched the day after the abduction with nothing helpful. This was a long shot, but it was something and Frank desperately needed to do 'something.' He had recovered from his doping after a few hours of being found. However, he was nowhere near being okay. Joe and Iola were gone. Gone for four days. If the abductors kept to their previous MO, either Joe or Iola would be found in the next two days along some lightly traveled road… one of them, not both.

The chime rang indicating that someone had entered the building and both men looked to the doorway to see Fenton enter.

Frank noticed the dark circles under his father's eyes and the fatigue that he wore like an overcoat. They had all been suffering as a result of the abductions. Frank felt it strongly because it was his brother and he had been unable to stop it. He had also been unable to provide any truly useful information. His father felt the pain because he was a well-known detective and he was unable to find his son. Frank didn't hold it against him as he knew his father was doing everything he could to find Joe. However, his father held himself accountable for Joe's continued absence.

Fenton leaned against the frame of the door. "I'm afraid there's nothing new. Patrols are still continuing and the hotline is still open for calls. But there haven't even been any crank leads to follow up on." Straightening, Fenton said, "I'm going home to talk to Laura. I'll see you both there for supper." It was a statement, not a question. He expected them to stop and get something to eat so they wouldn't run themselves down. He also expected Sam to come. Sam had said he didn't want to bother them, but the truth was the Hardys needed him there. Joe's absence was just too painful at mealtimes and having their friend there lessened the strain.

.***********.

The meal had been quiet. Topics that had been discussed at the police department earlier in the day were related to the group by Fenton. Otherwise, they ate in relative silence. After the meal, Frank headed out on the back deck. The sun was just setting in the late May sky. Both he and Joe were missing class. For one of the few times in his life, he didn't care about school. He and Joe had always been together in school except when Frank had moved from elementary to middle and then middle to high school. His sixth and ninth grade years had not been his favorites. He had missed having his brother to talk with on the way to and from school. Going back to school now… he just couldn't consider it.

Frank heard the door open but he didn't turn around. It would be his dad. The two of them tended to gravitate to each other right now while their mom needed to have space to deal with the situation in her own way. The high-pitched scraping sound of the chair legs on the deck let him know that his dad was pulling out a chair to sit down. "You know mom says you should pick the chair up and pull it out, not drag it on the deck."

A soft chuckle escaped Fenton's lips. "Yes, I've been told that before. It just… it just doesn't seem very important right now."

Frank continued to watch the changing colors of the western sky through the tree branches. "You're right. It isn't." With that, father and son sat together in shared silence and sorrow.

.**********.

The next morning, Fenton was startled awake at 5:30 a.m. The number on the caller id was BPD. He nearly dropped the phone in his rush to press the green button to connect the call. "Hardy," was his response as he answered. Fenton looked up to see Frank already standing in the doorway.

"When?" Fenton asked into the phone and then a pause. "I'll be there asap." As he disconnected the phone, he felt his wife's hand on his back.

"Joe?" Laura asked frantically.

Fenton turned to see the anguish in his wife's eyes. "I'm sorry." He held her as she collapsed in his arms. "Iola is at the hospital and she wants to speak with me immediately."

Straightening at those words, she haltingly said, "Then don't worry about me. Go to her. I'll be praying she has the answers to find my boy." As Fenton rose from the bed to gather his clothes, she looked at her son in the doorway. "Get dressed, Frank. You're going with him." Like a shot he was gone. She smiled a little as she lay back in the bed and closed her eyes. Frank would have stayed with her if she hadn't told him it was okay to go with his father. He needed to go more than she needed him here. With, Frank, Fenton, and Iola now involved, she hoped there would be a break to bring Joe home.

.**********.

On the way to West Side Memorial, Frank spoke with the police on the phone and took notes. Iola had been picked up at 5:05 a.m. on a local road. She had been sitting on the ground at a stop sign. The college kids who found her said she appeared to be high on something and that she kept going on about Denton's Grill. She had become more coherent in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, insisting that Fenton be called to meet her at the hospital.

Fenton and Frank were quickly taken to the ER room where Iola was talking with a police officer and an FBI agent.

Iola caught sight of them immediately and said, "We have a chance. Fifteen minutes for three stoplights, ten more minutes then gravel road, then ten minutes and you're there." She knew she was rambling and her brain was still a little fuzzy. They were looking at her confused. She couldn't figure out what to say and groaned aloud in frustration as the doctor told her to calm down and take deep breaths. Pounding the mattress that she was lying on with her fists, she practically screamed, "They fed us food from Denton's Grill!"

Frank and Fenton looked at each other and Fenton asked, "You were awake when they took you to the holding area?"

"Not me. Joe," Iola practically sobbed out. "He knew they were going to keep him. He made sure I memorized this."

Moving closer to take Iola's hand, Frank said, "Fifteen minutes to get through a town with three stops or stoplights. Then ten minutes at regular speed to turn onto a gravel road." Iola was nodding her head almost violently as he continued, "Then ten more minutes to turn into the driveway of the place where they held you."

"Yes!" Iola cried out with relief. "And Joe believes it's somewhere near Denton's Grill because yesterday they brought us burgers from there."

Fenton had moved over to the FBI officer, named Stevenson, who had out his tablet and keyboard and was keying in information and bringing up satellite photos of the area. He was already on the phone to his associates at the BPD. "I'm going with Stevenson to BPD." He tossed Frank the keys to the car and said, "See what else Iola can tell you while we map out a search area."

Frank nodded and turned back to Iola.

"I'm sorry," she said as she looked into his deep brown eyes. Frank and Joe were so different but once you really got to know them, you realized how alike they were… and how close. Having grown up with both of them, she knew that Frank was suffering.

Frank looked into Iola's green eyes and he could see the pain there. It was the same pain he felt when he woke up in the hospital and knew they had taken Joe and not him. "I'm not sorry," he found himself saying and he meant it. "I know that Joe would rather be the one they kept." Frank's eyes moved down to where he held her hand. "But I know how you feel. They took him from you and you couldn't stop them."

Iola could see in Frank's eyes when he looked back up that he understood completely. Her eyes welled with tears but she willed them not to fall. She wouldn't cry over Joe yet. They had a chance to get him back. "Joe believes that he was a target. He knew from the first day that he would be the one they kept."

The police officer, Hadley, moved closer to Frank and asked, "How?"

"When they first took us, they called me 'girl' but they called him 'Joe' a lot of the time. One of them commented after seeing Joe's attitude that things made more sense. They threatened to rough me up, but not him. Joe felt that he was supposed to be turned over unharmed."

With some dread, Frank asked, "Did Joe figure out who it was that wanted to purchase him?"

"No. But the kidnappers did drop a comment that made me think that they would have taken either of you."

Frank was stunned. "What do you mean? What did they say?"

"Right as they were drugging me this morning, I heard one of them say to Joe, 'I think the buyer will be happy with this brother.' It made it sound like either of you could have been taken."

Unable to speak, Frank stood staring at the wall while Hadley asked a question. "What did Joe do that made them think he was a good choice?"

It was with rueful smile that Iola said, "You know Joe. He gave them a hard time. He was constantly baiting them for information and he never backed down from them."

Hadley nodded his head. "They wanted someone with spunk and some fight in them."

Iola's smile left her face as she looked at Frank. Glancing back to the officer, she said, "Yes. I think they did. I'm just hoping he's more than they bargained for." As the officer stepped to the side to call in the information, Iola squeezed Frank's hand that was still in hers.

Looking from the wall back to Iola he said, "If Callie hadn't had to go away. If we had taken you home first… then Joe…"

"Then it could be Callie in this bed right now holding Joe's hand," Iola voiced the thought for him. "Even though we both hate the thought, we both know that Joe would prefer it this way- for the two of us to be safe."

It was a weak smile he gave back to Iola. He knew she was right and he became nauseated with the thought of Callie going through what Iola went through. Guilt flooded him at the thought that he was glad that it didn't happen to Callie. What kind of brother was he? Was he glad that it was Joe and Iola? He shook his head. No. No, he wasn't glad. He hated that it had even happened. He looked back to Iola and it was like she could see into his soul.

"Don't feel guilty. I don't want you to and he wouldn't either."

A throat cleared behind him. "Ms. Morton's parents are here. I need for you to step out to the waiting room as there are only two visitors at a time." The orderly glanced hastily at the officer and added, "In addition to law enforcement that is."

Frank nodded and looked down at Iola and squeezed her hand. "We'll get him back."

"I know."

Frank left the screened area as the Mortons rushed past him. He could hear their happy reunion through the thin curtain as he walked away. While he was happy for them, his heart ached that it wasn't his mother and father reuniting with his brother. But hopefully that would happen soon. He headed toward the parking lot; it was time he rejoined his father. The police officer would get the rest of Iola's statement. Maybe there would be a detail that would help them, but he felt that Iola had given them the best of what she had. It was up to them to use it. Frank's strides moved with true purpose for the first time in five days. Finally, there was something he could do to find his brother.


	8. Chapter 8

**Taken**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank will return in the next chapter. ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Once Joe was left in the dark to await his fate, he listened. It was obvious that he wasn't left at the house alone. He could make out the faint noises of the creaking floor above. Whoever it was was probably finishing some last minute packing. He doubted they would stay at the house very long once the others returned. Joe did his best to attempt to remove his blindfold, but it was just too tight and there was no getting out of the handcuffs. Never one to wait for things, he was especially antsy this time knowing that it wouldn't be long before this mysterious buyer had him. However, there was nothing to do but wait.

In what he estimated to be about an hour's time, he heard the door open to his room. Brightness edged the bottom of his blindfold but that was all he could tell. He was even uncertain where the others were in the room.

Larry looked at the boy who had moved during their absence to place his back against the far wall. How much trouble would he give them? The sooner they got the drugs in his system the better. The leader stepped into the room and with a motion of his head, he directed Jonathan to follow him. Soundlessly they moved into the room as Joe used the wall to push himself up.

The lights had been turned on but his sense of direction wasn't the best with the blindfold. And he had to face it; he was in no position to escape from a basement with handcuffs and a blindfold. Even knowing that he didn't have a chance, he was determined that at least one of them would pay a price. He concentrated on every sound he could hear… and then he heard it, a slight scuff on the floor. Lowering his shoulder he bolted toward the sound. If he was wrong, he was going to run into a wall, but he wasn't wrong. Within seconds, his shoulder connected with a body. The body he hit went down as he was grabbed from behind. Feeling that body press against his back, he swung his head up and back as hard as he could. Joe didn't even feel the pain as his skull connected with Jonathan's nose spraying blood.

"Hell, Larry! I think he might have broken my nose!" Jonathan cried out as threw Joe to the floor forcefully. His hand pressed up to his face as he glared down at the boy on the floor. He pulled back his foot to deliver a hard kick when he was restrained.

"'Hell' is right, you nitwit," Larry got out between clenched teeth. "No names!" he hissed. Turning his gaze to the floor, he saw Joe trying to get up. Moving to put a foot on his back, he said, "You've made your choice. It's the hard way now."

Joe didn't know what the man was talking about as he was getting his breath back after falling to the floor on his shoulder. Luckily he had managed to turn his body slightly. If he hadn't he would have ended up falling on his face. As it was, the pain in his arm had his full attention. As he was still trying to process what the man said, he was roughly hauled to his feet. The stairs were killer on his shins as he was pulled up the stairs in a stumbling fashion. At the top he was given no respite and was led to another part of the house. A familiar rustling sound greeted his ears… a bathroom? Thought left him as he felt his boxers grabbed and heard the sound of a knife cutting through fabric. His face automatically colored as he stood nude, blindfolded, and handcuffed.

A shove to his back and he moved forward to stumble over a small lip. The feel of tile was soon against his face as the shower wall stopped his forward momentum. A blast of cold water hit him and he instinctively turned from it only to have it follow.

Carrie stood in the bathroom with the shower wand directed at the boy. Jonathan's blood was in the boy's hair and on his back. She watched as it ran in rivulets down his back and to the drain on the floor. Seeing him in the shower, she thought they could have gotten a really good price for him even without this special buyer. Joe Hardy was already good-looking enough to turn heads at sixteen. In a couple of years, he would be devastatingly handsome… if he lived. A sigh escaped her and she smiled as she realized he had heard her. Now he realized a female was washing him off. "Turn around," she ordered. "It's time to wash the front." When he didn't move, she added, "I can always get one of the guys to help me."

Joe swallowed his pride and turned toward the voice. With his hands cuffed behind him he didn't even have the option of trying to cover himself. Water sprayed him in the face and he shook his head as the spray went down the front of his body.

"I would have thought you would have enjoyed a shower," she said as she turned off the water and hung the nozzle. Grabbing a towel, she moved to wrap it around him and began drying him off. She felt him instantly tense. "The guys are right here and if you try anything you'll regret it."

Joe believed her. He had inflicted some pain and he was lucky he wasn't injured more than he was from his retaliation. However, there were many questions that he had no answer for… "Why?" he asked softly as she wrapped her arms around him to dry his back and his arms with the towel between them.

"You're wet, and you can't dry yourself." She knew that wasn't what he meant. Dropping the towel, she picked up a garment. "You're not going to like this."

"I'm afraid I haven't liked anything about this visit," Joe said sarcastically.

"I'm going to need you to step into this underwear."

Joe realized how right she was about him not liking it. There was no way that he would be able to get them on by himself. "You're right. I don't like it and I guess you're not going to uncuff me so I can do it myself?" Hearing silence, he said, "Right."

The next several minutes were some of the most awkward of Joe's life as this unknown woman helped him into a pair of underwear. He knew immediately they weren't normal underwear; they had put him in an adult diaper. Wherever they were taking him had to be pretty far away.

Carrie took him by the arm and turned him face first against the wall. "Stay this way, Joe. It'll be over in a minute."

Joe tensed as he felt a masculine hand press into the center of his back as a needle prick was felt on his arm. In moments he was out.

Jonathan let him fall to the floor without breaking his fall.

Larry frowned at the taller man, "Now you still have to pick him up."

"The sooner we get rid of him the better," Jonathan mumbled. His voice sounded stuffy as his nose was swollen. Leaning down he picked Joe up and tossed him over his shoulder and followed the other two from the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Frank  & Joe chapter. Also, I am not an FBI expert. I have watched the X-Files and I have stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, however, neither make me an expert. So take the FBI's actions with a grain of salt in my Hardy-universe. However, note that DNA does take a long time to process, so the time-frame discussed in this story isn't far off the mark.

* And OK, I really meant to wait until Wed. to post, but I couldn't wait any longer. My will power isn't high right now. ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

In just four hours, a search area had been created and checked with only a few houses that met the criteria for location and gravel driveway. Fenton and Frank now sat in of the FBI's command trucks waiting for the team to check the house and clear it. Both prayed that Joe would still be there and that he would be returned to them uninjured after the raid. However, as the team entered the house the reports that were coming back over the radio indicated that it was empty.

Frank tried to school his features into a mask that would hide his pain, but one glance at the compassion in his father's eyes and he knew he had failed. A shaky breath blew out his lips as the team radioed to say that Fenton and Frank could come to the house. They already knew, and had been additionally warned, to touch nothing. They were there as observers and as a professional courtesy. As the two walked up the gravel drive to the house, a vehicle carrying more forensics equipment and personnel drove past them. The location of a 'holding house' had never been found in the previous kidnappings and this was a first. It was an incredibly big break for the FBI. They finally had a chance to collect evidence from a location where the kidnappers stayed for an extended period.

Nearing the house, Frank looked through the early morning light toward the detached three car garage and saw all the doors were open. Inside one of the doors sat a black SUV. Stopping dead in his tracks, Frank stared at the vehicle. "That's it," Frank said to his father. Moving to the vehicle, Frank entered the garage while the agents that were inspecting the car watched him carefully. Oblivious to their watchful gazes, Frank walked to the front right wheel and leaned over. Even in the softer lighting of the garage, he could see the dirt in the wheel well and tar residue that came from the area where they were abducted.

Fenton didn't have to ask what Frank saw or what it meant. Calling the agents over, he pointed out what Frank had spotted and then he gently took his son's arm to lead him toward the house.

As the gravel crunched under his feet, Frank said, "That was the vehicle. Joe and Iola were bound, gagged, drugged, and hauled here in the back of that SUV." Anger crept into Frank's voice. "They left it parked here so there was no chance of us seeing them after the abduction. Whatever they took him away in, we have no idea what it is."

Fenton felt Frank's pain. Knowing what vehicle to look for would have made things so much easier. "No we don't, but they weren't expecting us to find this place at all. We have to hope that they left something that we can trace them by."

Frank knew his father was right. A house had never been found and in addition, it hadn't been that long since Iola was released. They couldn't fly him out and they probably didn't take him by boat, so that meant they were traveling by car. The doctor that had treated Iola said that she had probably been drugged for about two hours before she was found. That meant that the kidnappers only had a six hour lead. They had a chance still, but it was getting smaller as time passed and both Fenton and Frank knew it. There just wasn't much they could do about it, except help look for evidence that would point them in the direction to search.

Hours later, the evidence team had taken various samples to test for DNA, but precious little was found. Except for bed linens and newspapers, there wasn't much for them to find. There was some blood on one of the rooms in the basement and Frank had paled when he saw it but his father had reassured him that it wasn't a large amount of blood. Since Iola hadn't mentioned it, it had to have occurred after she had been removed, which meant his brother had probably fought back. Was the blood his or had he wounded one of his captors? They would have to wait to see if it came back as Joe's or not. The other main piece of evidence was even more disturbing to Frank. In a bathroom on the main floor, Joe's boxers were found in the trash. They were cut and torn which made Frank and Fenton both feel that they had been removed by someone else.

As Frank walked quietly back towards the car, he knew that the house hadn't yielded the amount of evidence they needed to find Joe quickly. Police departments and state patrols across multiple states were being alerted, but they didn't have a lot to provide in the way of descriptions. They couldn't even be sure the three kidnappers would even be traveling together. What they needed was a miracle. As he pulled open the car door and sat inside, he heard his father start the car. They had already called his mother, but he still needed to tell Iola. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. He'd do it in person. Having seen where she and Joe had been held for days left him feeling sick. Telling her that they hadn't been in time was going to make him feel worse… but just like the night of the kidnapping and every night since, they had taken Joe and there was nothing he could do about it.

.**********.

Frank sat in the passenger side of Phil Cohen's car. They were on their way to Iola's. Fenton and Laura had decided they didn't want Frank driving alone out to the Morton's and then they told him they really didn't even want him driving. He had protested, but they had told him that he was too distracted by what happened. Begrudgingly, he had acquiesced and called Phil who had quickly agreed to drive his friend. They were almost to the Morton's and the conversation had been minimal. Frank was glad that Phil seemed to understand his need to be alone with his thoughts. Phil's car gently swayed as he drove slowly up the pot-holed gravel driveway and Frank's thoughts went once again to what he'd say.

As Phil pulled to a stop in front of the farmhouse, Frank was hit with all the memories of being with his brother at this place. As he stepped from the car, he could see the picnic table they always ate at during the warm months. The sounds of the creek bubbling and gurgling came from the wooded area to his left. He could almost hear Joe calling him to hurry up and get to the creek. Frank's eyes closed and he felt Phil's hand on his shoulder. He couldn't open his eyes yet. Too many memories… too many thoughts of 'what if there isn't another time….' His eyes remained closed until he heard the creaky screen door on the front porch open and then Chet's hesitant voice.

"Frank?"

Opening his eyes, he looked up at one of his best friends and Iola's brother. While Iola was on the petite side with dark hair and green eyes, Chet was taller but on the heavy side. His dark hair was slightly lighter in shade than his sister's and his eyes were a brown to almost match his hair. Chet had helped as much as he could during the search for Joe and Iola, but just like the Hardys, there wasn't much he or his family could do but wait.

Chet watched his friends from the porch. After a slight hesitation, Frank had begun moving toward the house. The fact that Frank was here and hadn't just called, told Chet that Joe hadn't been found. His guilty conscious at being happy to have his sister home reared its head. Being happy while his friend was so despondent didn't sit well with him. When his parents had brought Iola home that morning, he had been almost delirious with joy. His joy quickly left as Iola related her stay in the house basement to him. His feelings had alternated between fury at her captors, grief because of her fear, and an intense gratitude for Joe who had remained steady for his sister during the whole ordeal. Now as Frank stood on the porch in front of him, he didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything but drew the taller boy into a tight hug. When he released him, they just nodded to each other as Chet reached for the door.

.**********.

Thirty minutes later, Iola sat beside Frank hugging him. Her face was buried in his shoulder as held her. She tried to control her crying, but he could hear her ragged breathing.

"If only… if only I had told you sooner…" Iola said between sobs.

"You told us as soon as you could," Frank whispered to her.

"I knew I had to get to you… I should have found a way…"

Frank's hold tightened. "You can't beat yourself up, Iola. They left you in an isolated area. You told people to call us as soon as you were found. There wasn't any more that you could do. The kidnappers saw to it that you wouldn't be found in time." Frank looked over to Iola's family. They all looked guilty. "There's nothing any of you could have done. And you shouldn't feel guilty because Iola was released and Joe wasn't." He saw all of them look down to the floor, their guilty feelings clearly expressed through their actions. "Joe wanted her released. There's no doubt in my mind. There shouldn't be doubt or guilt in yours either." Pulling back from Iola a little to look in her eyes, he said, "The FBI is processing evidence. Evidence that they've never had before and evidence that is a direct result from what you told us."

"Do you think it will help us find Joe?" Iola asked softly.

"I have to believe that it will," Frank replied. He knew that the evidence would help if it identified one or more of the kidnappers. But they would need to locate that person and get information from them. The problem was the backlog of DNA testing that needed to be preformed for different cases. There were only so many labs with so many technicians. They'd be lucky to get the results back in two weeks. Chances were, it could take close to a month and even that would be considered pretty fast. The fact that there was a chance to find live victims from this crime scene would potentially bump it up on the schedule. But he couldn't tell Iola all of that, he needed her to believe.

Iola could see the fear still lurking in Frank's eyes and she felt it too. However, she latched onto his words. "I'll believe it too, Frank," she said as she laid her head back on his shoulder. "I have to believe," she whispered to herself.

.**********.

Joe's eyes fluttered open. Light streamed in through a curtained window in the small room. _Where am I?_ His eyes moved carefully around the room. There was a window and the bed he was in. There were two doors, one of which was open and appeared to lead to a small bathroom. He frowned. Turning his gaze to himself, he saw that the bed he was in was a simple single wooden bed with crisp white linens. Pushing himself up, he threw off the covers to see that he was wearing a pair of white cotton drawstring pajama pants. He cringed. Once again, someone had been dressing him. This gave him pause and after standing up, he felt no differently and no unexpected pain so he prayed nothing had happened to him while he was knocked out.

His feet padded softly on the polished oak floor as he moved to the open door. It was a bathroom with a sink, toilet and walk-in shower. Moving from that door to the other, he tried the knob but found it locked. Not surprising. Looking up to the ceiling, he quickly saw two small security camera recessed in two of the room's corners. Once again, not surprising. That left one more thing to check out. Joe stepped to the window of his room. The simple white linen curtains matched the bedding and wall color. He pulled the lightweight fabric to the side to see that he was on the second floor of the house and that an expanse of trees filled most of his viewing area with some kind of pole in the lawn between the house and the woods. His attention turned from the view to the actual window. It was a single piece of clear glass or other material. There was no sash to raise. In addition, a metal grate had been installed over the window so even if he did break through, he would have to remove the grate before he could escape. Pressing his face flat to the glass, he looked for something to show that the grate could be opened. He found nothing. Frustrated, his eyes returned to the landscape. Maybe he could figure out where he was.

The trees were different from many of those he normally saw in Bayport. Where they _cypress_? Something swaying in the breeze caught his attention… Spanish moss. They had taken him south. But how far south? Was this a swamp behind the house? His mind was spinning. Moving to the bed, he looked under it to find the space empty. Seating himself so he was propped against the headboard, he waited to find out where he was and who he was with.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank will be away for several chapters. I need to develop this part of the story and don't want to break until I reach a certain point. ;-) Frankettes just hold on… he will return! I promise!

And a big thank you to all who have reviewed! I really appreciate it! Keep doing it!

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

A knock sounded at the door and Joe quickly got to his feet beside the bed. He heard the lock tumblers turning and then the door was opened. A well-muscled man about Joe's height opened the door. In his hand was a gun of some sort, which he pointed at Joe.

"Back against the wall," the man said. "If you try anything I'll have to sedate you."

 _So, it's a dart gun_ , Joe mused as he complied with the man's request. When his back was to the wall, the man stepped to the side. Joe's apprehension greatly increased as an attractive woman, about forty he guessed, stepped into the room with a basket.

Sitting the basket on the floor, the woman stood and smoothed her dress and swung her head to flip her long honey blonde hair over her shoulder. "These clothes should fit you, Joe. My husband, Dominic, and I will expect you to be showered and dressed in hour. George will return to show you the way." She moved as if to leave the room, but then turned, "Dominic and I want to be hospitable, but we need to make sure that you… behave. Don't give us cause to be uncivilized." With that she left and George closed and locked the door.

Joe stood with his back still against the wall. Kidnapped. Held against his will. Locked in a room. Threatened with a dart gun. And she was worried about being 'uncivilized?' Joe shook his head as he moved to the basket that the woman had brought. She hadn't introduced herself but he had two names to file away. Looking into the basket, he found khaki pants, a polo shirt, underwear, socks, shoes, and a belt. In addition, there was a small electric travel razor and deodorant. Taking the basket with him toward the bathroom, he wondered what the couple wanted him for. In an hour, he figured he'd find out.

.**********.

Joe was sitting on the end of his bed when the knock came at the door. George's voice carried through. "Put your back against the wall." Joe figured this would be the common practice while he was here. He moved to stand as commanded and the door opened.

George smiled as he saw the surprise on the teenager's face. "This is Hans," he said gesturing to the large German shepherd beside him. "He's here to make sure you behave." He gave a chuckle. Stepping back and making a sweeping gesture toward the hall, he continued, "Mr. and Mrs. Laird are expecting you."

After only a slight hesitation, Joe walked from the room. He had nothing to fear from the dog as long as an attack command wasn't given. Therefore, he went in the direction that George indicated and found himself in a narrow hallway. At the end of the hall, he opened the door and exited into a wide and heavily decorated corridor. Expensive looking paintings with ornate frames hung on walls covered in intricate wallpaper. Where he had been must have been a servants' area. This had to be the main house where official guests and the owners would stay. A heavily carved staircase was in front of him and George indicated that he should descend. As he went down, he could hear the soft pads of Hans' feet on the treads behind him.

"To the left," George said as they reached the bottom.

Joe walked toward the open door on the left side of the large entryway. The woman from earlier was seated near the head of large wooden table that could seat at least twenty. The man who sat at the head of the table arose when Joe walked into the room and stood just inside.

"Ah, Joseph. Please come and sit next to me." When Joe didn't make a move, he added, "Where are my manners. I am Dominic Laird and this is my wife, Marilyn. Now, please. Come join us."

After hearing a whispered command in a foreign language behind him, a low growl came from Hans. There was no chance of him countermanding the dog's orders. The language sounded like northern Europe but he wasn't sure. His attention focused back on the table in front of him. He wanted answers and bizarre as this was, he would have to obey. Joe walked down the side of the table opposite of the one where Mrs. Laird sat. Joe observed Dominic Laird as he walked. The man was about his height with dark hair peppered with gray and was probably a decade older than his wife. His face had the weathered look of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors. Joe stopped when he came to the seat across from Marilyn Laird. A place setting was there and Mr. Laird, gestured toward the seat. Carefully pulling out the heavy wooden chair, he seated himself.

Dominic Laird smiled at him. "You must be wondering why you're here." At Joe's nod, he said, "We'll talk about it over dinner." With a hand signal to George, the message was relayed elsewhere by radio and a side door opened. A young man entered pushing a cart.

Joe's eyes went to him with the hope that this was someone who could help.

Soft laughter came from Joe's left as Dominic watched him. "You will find no help from anyone here, Joseph. All of my employees are sworn to secrecy and are well paid to keep it."

Joe was sure there was also some kind of threat involved, but he had to admit, the servant didn't even glance his way as he placed a salad and a full dinner plate in front of him. As the meal was being placed, he realized that his utensils were plastic while the Lairds' were silver. Holding up the plastic fork, he looked to Dominic.

Dominic was putting down his wine glass when he saw the fork. "Don't be ridiculous, Joseph, I'm not going to give you sharp metal implements." Waving at the plastic, he said, "And I know that given time, you could even make these into a formidable weapon, but I don't think you can do it over the course of dinner while we're watching you. Your food is already cut up, so the fork should be sufficient."

"Why?" Joe asked as he put the fork down.

Dominic picked up his knife and fork and began to cut the steak in front of him. He didn't feign ignorance of what Joe was asking. "I needed a challenge."

"A challenge?"

Dominic put a piece of steak in his mouth and chewed slowly. When he had finished, he looked to Joe. "Yes. You see, I'm a hunter and I have exhausted all the game worth hunting on the planet. I needed something fresh. Something that could really challenge me. The obvious solution would be to find subjects that could try to outwit me and survive."

"Subjects," Joe said softly. "You mean people."

Dominic waved his fork in the air in a dismissive gesture. "Semantics. Subjects or people. Doesn't matter. What matters is the challenge."

Any appetite that Joe had was gone as he realized what Dominic had in store for him. "You hunt… and kill… people."

Swallowing another bite, Dominic replied, "Indeed, I hunt them. I only kill them when I tire of them or they refuse to engage in the hunt. Of course, some are killed due to injuries they sustain in the hunt. However, if you complete each challenge, I provide medical care and a chance to recoup before the next challenge."

Joe's eyes moved from Dominic to Marilyn who seemed unfazed by what her husband said. The woman was delicately eating on her salad and seemed uninterested in the conversation. Turning back toward Dominic, Joe asked, "You plan to… hunt me?" Joe couldn't keep the apprehension out of his voice. This was the stuff that horror movies were made of.

Putting down his knife and fork, Dominic turned his full attention on Joe and looked him in the eyes. "Yes. I specifically requested you or brother."

Joe's eyes were glued to the man as he spoke.

"The last three subjects were small challenges. I was hoping for a bigger a challenge. You and your brother have started making a reputation for yourselves as being resourceful and smart. Throw in the fact that you are both young and athletic and it's the perfect package."

Joe's thoughts were on the fact that Frank had been a target as well… and could still be one. But a question came to his mind, "Why don't you go for older subjects who have more experience?"

"Because if I started taking older subjects with specific characteristics, it would become too much of a discernible pattern. Taking teenagers as part of a trafficking operation just means you are one of many without any pattern to find."

Unfortunately, the man made sense. The man was also sociopath. He had to get away. If he didn't escape, when Dominic tired of him, Frank would probably be on his list of subjects to acquire.

"You should eat, Joseph. You'll have to find your own food while we're on the hunt." Dominic's tone was casual as he returned to eating.

Picking up his fork, Joe did his best though the food stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow.

"We'll begin the hunt tomorrow bright and early. I'll have your clothes for you in the morning and will give you your goal and time frame."

With that, the Lairds engaged in casual dinner conversation as if this were a common occurrence. Joe's stomach turned as he realized that to them it very well could be.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank is waiting patiently to return to the story. ;-) Chapter 14... I know... be patient with Frank...

I PM those that have PM enabled, but I do want to thank those of you have reviewed. I'll do one of these group thanks every so often, so if I don't get you this time, maybe I'll catch you on another chapter. ;-)

IluveJoe - yes, it will be a thrill ride!  
Ladycaitwolf - don't worry, it's already complete, I'll be posting at least twice a week  
walter - thanks for the review! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

Joe's fan- I am trying to stick to posting twice a week. :-)  
Guests with no names! - thank you!  
A thank you to the following you reviewed an I PMed: Joeneal, Wendylouwho10, Joes's Fan, & max2013

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

The sun was just breaking the horizon with a soft reddish-orange glow when the knock sounded on the door. Joe had spent a sleepless night going over scenarios about what was to come. None of his ideas were pleasant. So when the knock sounded, he quickly got up and said, "Yeah, I know - back against the wall."

George snorted on the other side of the door. This one seemed to be a bit of a smart mouth. Maybe he'd give the boss the hunt he craved, although he felt sorry for the kid just as he had the others in the past. But he had to put those thoughts aside as he had made his choices. What he did know as the boss was more pleasant to work for when he had a good hunt. Opening the door, he placed the basket inside the room. Standing, he said, "Thirty minutes and I'll be back." Exiting, he locked the door and headed down the hall with Hans.

For a moment, Joe stood frozen against the wall. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't a bad dream. It was real. In short order, he'd be participating in a real life game of cat and mouse. A game, that from he could tell, none of the previous mice had survived. Closing his eyes for a moment, he drew a deep breath and cleared out those thoughts. Thinking like that would only bring him down and he would be short work for the master hunter. He needed to survive or escape. Survive was what he would have to concentrate on to start with… and he had a feeling that it would take everything he had learned to do just that.

.**********.

Joe stood against the wall of the room as he knew he would be asked to do. He had showered, shaved, and dressed. Now he was just awaiting the knock on the door. Joe glanced down at the clothing that he had been provided. He had on a short-sleeve white tee shirt, khaki colored shorts, underwear, ankle socks, and a decent pair of brown hiking shoes.

The knock sounded and George didn't even ask this time, he just opened the door and said, "Time to go."

Joe walked out and down the hallway in the same direction as the night before. Once again he was sent into the dining room, but only Dominic was there this time.

When Joe's eyes went to Marilyn's seat, Dominic followed them. "It's too early in the morning for my wife. Don't worry; she'll be around for the end of the game." His smile was predatory.

Looking at Dominic's plate, he saw that man was having a full breakfast and that he had just begun. Joe's plate had a wrapped granola bar on it. The hospitality from the night before was gone. But he hadn't expected it anyway.

Once again understanding Joe's thoughts without him speaking, Dominic said, "That's all you get from me. You can find plenty of food out there to eat if you choose to." Putting his utensils down, he pushed back his chair and said, "Come over here and I'll explain the hunt to you."

Joe pocketed the bar and walked with Dominic to a side table that had a variety of items. Joe's eyes lit up at the array. "Five days," Dominic said. "You have to evade me for five days. If you do, you'll be rewarded with time off here at the house, food, and medical treatment. If you don't evade me," he paused here, "well, let's just say there's a penalty for not completing the challenge successfully." Laird then swept his hand over the items on the table. "You can choose four items to take with you. Choose wisely."

Joe stepped closer and looked at the items with a clinical eye. Five days. What would he need most for five days? His mind went back to the information that Frank had shared with him last summer after he attended a survival camp. You had to be sixteen or older to attend and Joe wasn't. Frank had shared what he had learned, but Joe didn't have the first hand experience. He wished now, that he had asked his father to take them camping so he could practice the techniques first hand. A grim smile formed on his face. Wishful thinking and twenty-twenty hindsight wouldn't get him anywhere. Now, back to the task of choosing what he would need… Water. Something defensive. Looking at the items, he saw a folded piece of paper under the items, almost hidden against the similar colored table. Pulling it from the pile, he opened it. His eyes widened and he turned them slowly to Dominic. "Is this a map of the area?"

Laird nodded, "It is a map of the compound. You cannot escape, but you can go anywhere in the compound, except the house grounds and driveway, to avoid me."

Joe returned the nod and kept the map in his hand.

"One." Laird said.

A water bottle with a clip that would attach to his belt-loop came next.

"Two."

A bottle of iodine tablets for water purifying went into his pocket.

"Three."

A small pocket knife. He checked to make sure it had a blade.

"Four." Laird said with finality. "Good choices." Laird knew that the boy had made the best choices with what he had. He had left the flint and steel, the cord, compass, fishing hooks, and a variety of other items that would be helpful but weren't necessary for surviving five days.

As Joe put the items in his pockets, he asked, "How long before you come after me?"

Dominic smiled. He liked the boy. "Six o'clock tonight. I'll hunt for as long as I want, but each day there will be times where I will return to the house to eat and sleep. However, it might be different times each day. Oh, by the way, Hans and two other dogs will be patrolling the grounds to the house and the driveway. And just so you know, no one will be entering or exiting the property for the next five days."

Joe nodded as he stood ready for the next step.

"Follow me," Dominic said as he walked to the ornate front door. Opening it, he gestured outside. "You have thirty seconds to get to the tree line. At that point, I will put the dogs on patrol. It would be sad for the hunt to be over before it started." Laird was slightly irritated when that got no response from the boy. But then, it was probably a good sign as it meant that Joe Hardy was already in survival mode. "Time starts… now."

Joe took off at a run knowing that he would be cutting it close. Laird would undoubtedly be checking to see how he did on the run and the direction he chose. As he entered the trees, he heard the dogs barking. He was out of their patrol area and should be safe. However, he didn't trust the hunter so he continued at a jog for about twenty yards into the trees.

Pulling out the map, he assessed his options. Laird would expect him to look at the most obvious areas where escape might happen. However, even though he knew that this would play into Laird's hands, he had to try. According to the map, a creek cut through the swampy area behind the house. The land in front of the house was on higher ground but there was less of it as the bulk of the property lay in the swampy marsh. Joe took some comfort that according to the map, there would be some areas of high ground… but then, those would be the ones that Laird would be checking. Five days, Joe thought. Survive for five days. Dropping to the ground, he pulled off his shoes and socks. Stuffing the socks into his pockets, he put the shoes back on. No need to get the socks wet as he would definitely be walking in the brackish water of the swamp in order to disguise his scent.

Standing, he moved to the top of the slight hill that sloped gently into the marsh of cypress knees, clumps of grass, tall broad-based trees, and leafy dark water. The sound of frogs filled the air along with the slight breeze that fanned the wispy grass and stirred the humid air that was thick with the smell of decay. It wasn't unbearably hot, but it was hot and as the days passed from May into June, it would only get hotter. Walking down the incline, Joe stepped into the murky water. Spotting a stout branch that had fallen, Joe picked it up for a walking stick. The bottom of the swamp would not be even and in some cases, he might have to probe to check the depth of the water in front of him.

Joe continued about thirty yards into the swamp and then changed direction toward the area where the creek would exit the compound. As he tripped over an unseen root under the water, he prayed that he'd find something that would help him escape…

An hour later, he was at the point where the creek exited the compound and he was disappointed and frustrated. Metal grates and fencing crossed the point where the creek left the property. A fifteen foot chain-link fence marked the boundary. It was topped by razor wire. An additional fence set about ten feet inside the fifteen foot fence. The space in-between appeared empty of anything except more components of the swamp. The trees in this area had been cut back on both sides making about a twenty yard clearing as it followed the fence-line.

Joe walked up to the fence and threaded his fingers through it as he leaned his forehead against it. There was no way a fence running through the swamp would be electrified, so he knew it was safe. After giving in to a moment of despair, he opened his eyes and looked up at the trees again. Perhaps there had been some negligence at some point in the fence-line. He would trace the fence around the complex… at least part of the way each day. He couldn't afford to be predictable.

Unclipping his water bottle, he knelt in the stream that was only two feet at its deepest here with gently sloping banks that were just higher than the swamp around it. He held the bottle in the moving water of the stream. The water was tan, but then, in a swamp it was to be expected. Once the bottle was filled, he dropped in the correct number of iodine tablets. Getting an intestinal illness out here wasn't an option. Thirty minutes and then he could drink and replenish the water if he was near a decent source. While he was waiting to drink, he needed to consider some type of weapon. Deciding he might as well make his staff into a weapon, he went to work sharpening the end. Perhaps he'd get a chance to look for some fish in the creek later. If not, he saw a stand of cattails nearby and the stalks would provide him with some vitamins although cutting them would make it obvious that he had been here. Finishing his sharpening, he pocketed the knife and pulled out the granola bar. He'd eat half of it now and save the rest for tomorrow. It was a shame that it wasn't fall or he'd have the ability to make a decent bow. Unfortunately, from his limited knowledge, he needed dry plants and materials to make the cordage for the bowstring and a fire to temper the arrows properly. He hoped by fall that he wouldn't be in this situation any longer. How long had the others lasted? It was a thought that plagued him. He wanted to know and then again, he desperately _didn't_ want to know.

Stepping into the edge of the creek, he began to follow its edge. He had to go into the swamp further before trying to exit the stream to follow the fence-line.

Joe's walk took him about thirty minutes and careful maneuvering around several water moccasins. A poisonous snake bite might end the hunt before it really even started. He could very well die before he was found and even if he was found, there was no guarantee that Laird would haul him back to the house for treatment. A tight band formed around his heart as he thought of lying here in the southern swamp while venom coursed through him. Death would not be pleasant in that fashion and the thought of his body rotting here while his family continued to search for him tightened the band around his heart even more. He couldn't die here. He _wouldn't_ die here. Laird wasn't the only one searching and hunting for him. His family was doing the same. Survive. The word repeated itself over and over in his mind.

.**********.

It was after sunset when Joe sat near a muddy bank coating himself with mud. The mosquitoes had come out full force and when the mud he was applying dried, it would form a barrier that they couldn't bite through. He was also coating his shirt and shorts as the light colored material only served to call attention to him. He paused a moment as he thought he heard a sound. Barking. He finished rolling his shirt in the mud and pulled it over his head. Grabbing his staff, he made his way back through the swamp. He had memorized this path earlier and he followed it back unerringly. Pausing at times to step over vines he had pulled taut between trees, he followed his path. Soon the sounds of the creek could be heard and he would try to cover his tracks for as long as he could.

.**********.

Dominic Laird pulled himself up from the swamp water that was stained brown from tannic acid and decaying leaf litter. A leaf stuck itself to his face and he swatted it away. He was irritated, it was true, but he was also pleased. The boy wasn't just trying to evade, he was trying to slow him down. The threat of a penalty if he was found was not an idle one. It would be painful for the boy if he didn't evade him, but he didn't have plans to kill the Hardy boy yet. He hadn't paid all that money for a one and done. No, he hoped to have him around for a number of months. Clasping George's hand, he pulled himself up from the muck and called out. "Good job, Joseph!" Taking the flashlight from George, he directed the beam toward the trip line and then in the direction they were going. "He's either heading back to the stream or into the section of swamp that has deeper pools. Hans won't be able to follow this direction. We'll have to track back to the stream and see if we can find his trail again."George nodded and they turned around.

Over four hours later and they had not found the boy. The trail doubled back on itself so much in this area that Hans couldn't sort it out. A smile graced Dominic's face as he called out, "I don't know if you can hear me, Joseph, but excellent job. I'm heading back to the house to eat and rest. I'll be back on the hunt within twelve hours.

Sounds of the men and dog leaving carried through the trees. Just thirty yards away and about twenty feet up a large juniper, Joe Hardy sat with his back pressed against the rough bark of the tree and his staff pulled tightly to his chest. His heartbeat was a wild rhythm that he felt had to be audible to retreating men and their dog. His eyes closed at Dominic's words. He'd made it through one day. Four more to go.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank will return in Chapter 14! I promise.

Wow! Thanks for all the encouragement!

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve**

That night… or morning as it were, Joe slept up in the tree away from any creatures that may be roaming the area. While he hadn't seen any alligators, he wasn't sure there weren't any since he didn't know how far south or inland he was. As the dawn light slowly filtered through the trees, Joe lowered himself on the vine rope that he had made the day before. His muscles ached and cramped from the strain of maintaining his balance in the tree. He'd have to find a better tree or spot for sleeping as he couldn't afford to be exhausted every day. Stretching, he coiled up the vine rope and looped it over his head and under his arm.

The day began with a moderate temperature although the air was heavy with humidity. Perhaps a storm would be on the way. Thinking that would be great for his evasion efforts, Joe went to work gathering some food for a meal. He spent a large part of the morning gathering grubs and eating the tender core of the cattail plants he found. Drinking the water and then starting the purifying process completed his morning's activities. His plan for later was to use some of the shiny wrapper from his granola bar along with a thorn hook and vine to do some fishing. He'd have to eat the fish raw if he caught one as he didn't want to chance a fire. Attaching his water bottle to his belt, he went in search of thorns.

.**********.

When the sun was high overhead, Joe was polishing off the remnants of a small fish. He was done with food gathering for the day unless something presented itself. The granola bar would be his next meal. The once crunchy bar was beginning to soften in the humidity and Joe's close calls to falling completely in the swamp and creek. Joe washed his fingers and reached to his side to pick up his staff. Using the branch for balance and leverage, he stood to his feet. Leaning over, he picked up a coil of thorny vine. It was green, pliable, and also very sharp. He would be making a club to use with the vine wrapped around the end. It would make the club a more deadly weapon and it might be very useful.

.**********.

That afternoon the game of cat and mouse continued in the daylight hours. It was late afternoon when Joe actually caught sight of his pursuers. It was a sight that filled him with fear. He tore across the high ground at a breakneck pace. He had thought he could scout out the driveway and gate without having a problem. Joe realized now how very wrong he was. He didn't have any traps set up here to slow the hunters down. Right now, he was outpacing both men but Hans was gaining on him quickly. In moments, a force hit him in the back and knocked him hard to the ground. It was all he could do to breathe and pull his hands up to cover his neck. But the searing pain of canine teeth never came. Instead the dog sat on him. Joe realized that the dog was meant to hold him, not attack. Moving his hand quickly, he found his club and swung it back and around hitting the dog in the side of the head. In his fear and panic it had been a strong blow, but he could see the dog's chest still rising. Oddly enough, he was glad. He had a feeling that George at least, was attached to the dog and might be rougher with him if the dog died. For just a moment, he touched the knife in his pocket. This was a threat he could end now. However, there was another dog and Dominic had said to evade. He could have a severe penalty if the dog died. Letting go of the knife, he grabbed his staff and club and took off again into the trees. This time he went in the direction of the swamp where he had traps laid and had water to cover his trail….

.**********.

That night, Joe slept in the fork of a large gum tree near the edge of the swamp. The fork was fifteen feet up and while Joe would have liked to be higher, he felt that he wouldn't fall out of this tree and sleep was imperative. However, before he could sleep, his thoughts went to his family. _What are they doing? Has it only been a week since I was riding in the van with Frank and Iola? Iola._ He hoped she was coping okay, but he doubted it. Frank probably wasn't coping too well either. His thoughts began to take a despairing turn and he had to buoy himself. _Iola knew details to tell the police. They have to have found the house. Dad and the FBI will follow the evidence and hopefully it will point to Dominic Laird._ And so it was well after sunset before Joe drifted off to sleep having made it through a second day.

.**********.

The third morning began differently than the others. Instead of awaking to dappled light through the canopy, Joe awoke to the patter of raindrops hitting the broad leaves of the gum. Opening his mouth, Joe let the raindrops fall onto his tongue. It was the first water that tasted fresh in two days. There were ways to collect it, but he hadn't set up anything and materials that he had access to weren't that helpful. What he wouldn't give for a Wal-Mart bag right about now. Joe grabbed his staff and club from their places in the tree and dropped them to the ground below. As he freed himself from the tree, he heard the rumble of distant thunder. This would be his opportunity to check out the gate. The rain would help camouflage his scent and hopefully, after his near disaster yesterday, Laird would think he was hiding out. But he couldn't count on that, so he had to be on guard. After a quick consult of the map, he began to make his way out of the swamp.

Three hours later, the rain was tapering off but still falling gently as Joe carefully looked through the trees at the massive gate before him. The fence structure here on the high ground was stone but still topped by razor wire. The inner chain-link fence with razor wire was the same. The gate area had security cameras installed in several places. There was no way he was getting out through this avenue. Letting out a sigh of frustration, he turned and headed back toward the swamp. He would walk part of the perimeter again today on his continuing search for an escape route.

The afternoon found him eating more cattails and drinking iodine water back at the spot where the creek went under the fence. The rain had increased the flow of the creek and fishing wouldn't be the best until the water subsided. The water level was close to breeching the tops of the low banks in this section. A major flood would never occur in this area with all the swampland to diffuse the impact of the water, but at least in this section, the rain had swelled the tiny creek. Joe watched with interest as a tree branch as large as his thigh floated down the creek to catch on the grate. _I wonder if they'll come by to clear the thing off?_ The thought was no sooner in his mind than a metallic creak sounded and the interior and exterior grates that guarded the creek lifted at an angle to allow the debris to float under and out of the compound. Joe stared in wonder and as he jumped up, the grate lowered back into place.

Joe's eyes frantically searched the fencing around the grate as he stepped into the creek. The current packed more power now and he stumbled slightly as moved toward the grate. Leaning down, he pushed at the metal to no avail. Dragging himself over to the side, he looked closer at the fencing. There was still nothing he could see. However, there had to be a sensor of some sort - something to indicate water level and debris against the grate. Turning quickly, he climbed out of the creek and moved along the fence line to find a rotten log that was of similar size to the one that had been in the creek. Hauling it back to the bank, he slid back into the creek. Positioning his staff so he could grab it from it the other side of the fence, he moved into the creek's center with the log.

Barking. Joe's breathing and heart rate both spiked at the sound. He was only on day three. He had to make it two more days… or escape. Pushing the log in front of him, so that it contacted the grate in numerous places, he waited with apprehension as he could now make out voices in the distance. "Come on," he whispered. Joe's eyes remained fixed on the grate in front of him; the sounds behind him indicating that Laird was getting closer. Metallic creaking began and he only wished it wasn't so loud. He could clearly hear Dominic's shouts as the grate made its unhurried rise to let the offending debris and its hitchhiker passenger pass through. Snagging his staff as he passed between the fences, he continued his path to freedom. _Thwop!_ Joe's attention was drawn quickly back to the log that was now between him and his pursuers. _Tranq dart_ , he thought as he moved under the last grate. The first grate had already descended and he could hear that the two men were almost at the fence.

Joe kept the log with him and placed it between himself and his pursuers. It wouldn't take long before one or both of them was under the grates and pursuing him again. He could move faster if he were on land, but he'd also be an easy target for Laird's dart gun. Joe was certain the man had the log trained in his sites even through the fencing. No, he had to get some distance and… Yes! Things were finally going his way as he saw the creek make a sharp curve ahead. He'd be able to get out and run for it now. The question was where was he running to?

Dragging himself out of the creek, he gave a quick glance toward the fencing which was barely visible now. No sign of movement. He needed to gain some distance and then turn back in the direction that the fence headed toward the front of the compound. The driveway was there and he could only hope and pray that a road with some traffic wouldn't be far away. Joe began running, following the edge of the creek. Water dripped from his hair and his clothes and he had to hold the water bottle clipped at his waist so it didn't constantly hit him on the leg. His mantra of 'survive' was starting to change to 'escape' and Joe finally felt that there was a chance to find his freedom.

An hour later, Joe swatted some low-lying leafy branches and stumbled onto a dirt path that had been recently traveled. It wasn't big enough for a full-sized vehicle, but looked like four wheelers used it. He leaned over and clutched at the bottom of his shorts as his hands rested on his thighs. Rest wasn't an option yet, but spots were starting to move across his field of vision as three days of being on the move and under stress were catching up to him. If it wasn't for the adrenaline rush that was still coursing through him, he would probably have been laid out on the ground. But he had to keep moving and moving in a direction that would bring him back to civilization. So he pressed upright once again and took a long drink from his water bottle before moving along the path in the direction he thought the road would be. The rain had stopped completely and the sun was beginning to break through in blindingly bright patches before being hidden again.

After about ten minutes, Joe finally heard engine sounds. His mind clouded momentarily as he stopped to identify the sound. _What if it's Laird or George?_ he thought as he made a sudden move for the tree line. Jumping the small ditch that bordered the path, he realized his error. He had been so preoccupied with the thought of the men behind him, he hadn't thought that they might have switched directions and come from a different way. As Joe made his desperate push toward the trees, he saw blonde hair on the vehicle. Another glance back from his spot hidden in the edge of the trees showed him that the ATV had stopped and the man pressed a communication device on his shoulder.

 _Crap!_ Joe thought to himself. The guy was probably on Laird's payroll and now he had spotted Joe. There was only one thing he could do – run. Once again racing at breakneck speed in a direction that would still hopefully bring him to the road, he felt the sting of branches hitting him in the face and across his torso. The vines and downed limbs clawed at his legs as he tried to distance himself from his pursuer. And he knew he was being pursued. He could hear the man behind him and the sounds were growing closer. Joe let out an involuntary cry as a vine caught his foot and sent him sprawling to the ground. Landing heavily against a fallen log, he could hardly breathe for the pain in his side. The sounds behind him spurred him to rise and continue. _Penalty for getting caught early_ went through his mind. _Survive_ … 'Escape' had now left him for his previous mantra because survival was his goal once again.

Breaking into an open clearing, Joe squinted at the bright sun as he clutched at his side that was throbbing with pain. He couldn't get caught out in the open and so he made a run along the left side of the clearing. He hadn't gotten far when a sharp pain struck him in the shoulder. Reaching back while still running, Joe pulled a tranquilizer dart from his shoulder and threw it to the ground. Pushing back into the trees, he continued for a few yards but the sedative coursed through him quickly and he stumbled. In just a few steps he was on his back in bed of pine needles looking up through the green needles above him to the cloud dotted sky.

Joe blinked rapidly as the older blonde man from the ATV came into his line of sight. Joe made some feeble efforts to regain his feet but a gentle push but the man's boot sent him back to the ground. Once again the man pressed the device on his shoulder and said, "I've got him. Goin' to take me awhile to get him back to the ATV though." There must have been a response and then the man leaned over to pull Joe up and then across his shoulder in a fireman's carry. His words drifted back to Joe and through the haze of the sedative. "You gave him a good chase, boy. Nobody's ever escaped the compound." Any other words that were said were lost to Joe as the sedative took him into blackness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Frank says enough is enough, he will be back next chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Joe awoke to find himself on a cot. He blinked as he looked around. _I'm probably back at the house_ , he thought. He couldn't control a sharp intake of breath as he shifted on the cot. Pain streaked through his side and his whole body ached.

"He's awake, sir," George's voice came from near the foot of the bed. A muffled response could be heard. Moments later, the man stood and moved closer to the bed. "I was waiting for you to wake up to get cleaned up before the doctor sees you and you're returned to your room."

"Doctor?" Joe asked somewhat fuzzily.

"Yes, Mr. Laird told you you'd receive medical care at the end of hunt." George crossed his arms and looked at the young man lying on the bed.

"But that was for a… successful evasion." Joe kept his eyes on the man. "I was caught on day three."

A grin broke across the man's face as he replied, "But you had to be caught by someone besides Mr. Laird so he's willing to concede that you bested him… this time."

Joe felt mixed feelings about that as he grimaced. Moving to a sitting position was very painful. His hand clutched his side as he asked, "How soon can I get that medical attention?"

George laughed and pointed to a room off to the side. "There's a shower in there and a pair of boxers. I'll be out here waiting when you're finished. The doctor will see you in your room." Looking at the floor where caked mud had fallen off Joe, he said, "Mrs. Laird didn't want you messing up the whole house, so you're just cleaning up here."

"Very considerate of her," Joe growled as he pushed himself up off the bed. He had to reach out and steady himself against the wall. Spots traveled once again across his vision.

"I wouldn't run the water too hot if I were you," George counseled as Joe limped toward the bathroom. "I really don't want to have to get you out of the shower after you faint."

Joe paused a moment. "Don't worry. I don't want that any more than you do." He continued to move slowly forward. "It's actually nice to wake up from being knocked out to find that I'm still in the same clothes." He had noticed pretty quickly that while his shoes had been removed, the rest of his filthy clothing was just as it was.

George snorted. "I'll be waiting."

"I'm sure you will be," Joe muttered as he stepped onto the cold cobalt blue tile. The coldness actually felt good to his feet. Shutting the door behind him, he maneuvered to sit on the toilet to catch his breath again. Looking ruefully at his feet, he frowned. His feet would be happy if he didn't get them wet for awhile. While he had tried to let his feet dry at night, the constant wearing of the wet shoes had given him blisters and other ailments. Hopefully, they'd get a chance to heal before he was put back out on the hunt.

Joe decided to pull his shirt off while he was still sitting and several soft cries escaped him before he was able to remove it. Looking at his chest he understood why it was painful. Mottled dark bruising already covered a large portion of his left side – courtesy of that log he fell on. Peeling off the rest of his clothes, Joe pulled back the shower curtain in a mundane act that was no longer mundane for him. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor sounded heavenly and soon he slid inside to let the warm water run over him. It would take a lot to get the caked dirt off and he was content to let the water run over him and soften it before attempting to wash it off. After placing his head against the cool tile under the shower head, he cast his eyes down to the shower floor and watched the swirling shades of gray as they moved clockwise to exit down the drain. When the colors were finally running close to clear, he straightened to work on other areas of his body. And so it went until he felt that he was clean. As Joe dried off, he looked at his face in the mirror and stared into his own eyes. He had been here less than a week and he no longer felt like himself. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on things that his family had just done and things they were getting ready to do. A knock on the door brought his eyes open.

"Didn't faint in there, did ya?"

Hanging up his towel, Joe grabbed the boxes and put them on. Opening the door, he said, "No. Just trying to make sense of what's going on."

George shook his head in a negative fashion. "No sense trying to make sense, boy. You just need to concentrate on staying alive." Then he moved out into the hallway. "Now come on out, we're headed back up to your room for the doc to check you out."

When they arrived at Joe's room, he saw the Lairds and a man that he assumed was the doctor.

As Joe stepped into the room, Dominic said, "This is Dr. Ramsey. He'll be checking you over."

Joe moved to sit on a stool that had been brought into his room. "And does Dr. Ramsey know how I received these injuries?"

"Of course. You don't think that I'd allow someone in here to treat you that couldn't be trusted?" Dominic said in a tone that indicated he didn't have any concerns.

Joe was poked and prodded and winced out loud when Ramsey pushed on his ribs.

Dr. Ramsey turned to Dominic and said, "Well, without x-rays I can't say for certain about the ribs, but I think they're just bruised. There may be a crack but it's hard to tell but the fact that he can draw almost normal breaths leads me to believe they're just bruised." Ramsey looked back to Joe and said, "As for your feet, you should wear socks when you are walking around but when you are just sitting or in bed, it would be good to prop them up and just let them air dry."

It sounded good to Joe, but then, how long would he have before he had to go back out? Darting a glance from Ramsey to Laird and back, Joe asked, "Um, how long do you think before my ribs and feet are healed?"

Ramsey stared at the boy's bruised side for a moment and then answered, "I'd say that your feet will be back to normal in a week or less, provided you follow my advice. Your ribs on the other hand will probably take about three weeks to heal."

Dominic released a sigh. "I was afraid you'd say something like that."

"Well, it's true, Dominic. You need to let him heal up if you expect him to give you his best." The doctor was matter-of-fact about the issue and seemed unconcerned about what he was saying.

Joe stared at the men. It was as if he was some animal that was being shown or raced and not a person. Once again he closed his eyes and thought of his family. In no way did he expect Laird to let him have three weeks to recoup. When he opened his eyes again, Laird was staring at him.

"Ten days. You'll have ten days."

Dr. Ramsey pulled off the glasses he was wearing and put them in his breast pocket. "Well don't blame me if he doesn't perform the way you want. If you don't follow my advice, you can't blame me."

"Don't worry, I won't," Dominic said quietly. Then, "Show yourself out, Doctor." With a nod of the head, Dr. Ramsey left.

Joe was still sitting on the stool with Dominic, Marilyn, and George still in the room. It was a very odd situation.

The silence was broken by Dominic who said, "You'll have dinner in your room tonight as well as breakfast. You'll have lunch with Marilyn and myself and we will discuss the hunt we just had."

Joe nodded as Dominic walked out and then his eyes shifted to Marilyn who was several steps behind her husband. He shifted awkwardly on the stool as he saw her gaze travel over his body and then back to his eyes. To his surprise and consternation, she winked. When George closed the door behind her, he thought the man shook his head in an exasperated fashion. Standing, Joe moved the stool to the side and then lay on his bed. He meant only to rest, but soon he drifted off.

When he awoke, he found a tray of food and an assortment of magazines on the floor inside his room. Picking up the tray was rather painful but he did it and shuffled back to his bed. He was starving but knew that he had to take things slowly or he'd be throwing it back up. Looking at the food, his captor seemed to realize it as well. He had a glass of water, a ham sandwich with just lettuce and a little mayo, an oatmeal cookie, and what looked like some OTC pain medicine. It wasn't a lot in the way of food, but it was probably all he needed for tonight and the pain killers would be very helpful. Joe spread the magazines out as he took a bite out of his sandwich. His nose wrinkled as several of the magazines were obviously Marilyn's. However, if he was going to be here ten days, he'd probably end up reading them. At least there were some car magazines as well as some general reading ones. Overall, it could have been much worse… like having nothing to do but go stir crazy.

Once his meal was done, he picked up a car magazine and started reading. However, having a full stomach and a soft bed made his eyes slowly close.

Joe slept straight through the night to awaken to the sound of his door closing. Groggily, he opened his eyes and moved his arm, causing a magazine to slide off the bed. Looking around, he realized he had barely moved all night. Either he was that exhausted or the fear of moving and falling out of a tree had translated to his general sleep pattern. Whatever the reason, he was a little stiff as he pushed himself to rise from the bed. His hand went of its own accord to his ribs which were still sore and aching. The deep breath he took caused him to wince in additional pain.

Making his way over to the door and the new tray of food, he glanced back at the bed and saw that the previous night's tray had been removed. A little creepy that someone, probably George… and he hoped it was George and not Marilyn, had been in his room last night. Taking the tray back to his bed, he ate and waited for lunch and the discussion with Dominic Laird about the outcome of the hunt.

.**********.

Joe was waiting against the wall when the knock sounded. The door opened to reveal George and Hans.

"Time," George said and then moved back so Joe could exit.

Following the route of previous trips to the dining room, he was downstairs in just a couple of minutes. The doors to the dining room were closed and Joe stood in front of them hesitantly. He was uncertain of what awaited him. George had made it sound like everything would be fine. As fine as it could be for him anyway.

"It's okay. Go on in," George encouraged from behind him.

Joe took it as a positive sign that George only spoke to him and didn't have Hans growl at him like a previous trip. He desperately wanted to take a deep breath but his ribs were already protesting the medium ones he was taking. Placing a hand on the knob, he turned it and pushed it open.

Immediately Dominic stood and gestured for him to approach the end of the table. Joe walked to the end and seated himself when Dominic told him to. In just a moment, a side door opened and the servant appeared with Joe's plate of food.

Once the servant had departed, Dominic turned his gaze on Joe. His tone was calm and curious. "No one has ever escaped the compound." Joe only looked at Dominic who continued, "And that means that no one has eluded me so long outside the compound." Dominic's head tilted as he studied Joe. "It was unfair really since Tyson had the ATV and the dart gun. I believe if he hadn't sedated you, you might very well have escaped."

Joe sat with a neutral face. He wasn't sure what his response should be. He was surprised when Dominic reached over and ruffled his hair like he was a small child.

With a proud gleam in his eye, Dominic said, "You're like the son I never had." With that he picked up his fork to begin his meal but then stopped to point the fork at Joe. "But just know that the flood gate has now been modified. When there is a hunt going on, it will have to be manually triggered to open from here in the house."

Joe watched as Dominic then began eating his meal. A glance at Marilyn showed that she too was occupied with the meal. It definitely wasn't what he expected to happen at dinner. Deciding that he should eat and not dwell on the oddness of the situation, Joe picked up his sandwich and began eating. He could ponder over the oddness of his 'hosts' during the long hours he saw before him for the next ten days.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Frank chapter. Joe said he really needed a break… and then I told him he'd be back in the next chapter.

An extra chapter post for the holiday. :-)

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Frank stared at the calendar pages he had posted on the wall of his bedroom. May and June were on the wall. Joe had been gone for fifteen days now. Fifteen days on the calendar marked off with large red X's. He was anxious with no way to relieve his nervous energy. Iola was home and had given them all the information she could. They had found the house where the two had been held plus the vehicle that transported them. But they hadn't found anything useful in regards to the kidnappers and there were no results yet from the DNA testing. The only good thing that had occurred, besides having Iola back, was that the blood sample from the house floor had come back as negative for Joe. This told Frank that his brother was still fighting when they took him to the buyer and he prayed that his brother was still fighting.

Knowing he needed to head down to breakfast and figure out what he was going to do today, Frank forced himself from the bed. Each morning he hoped that a hot shower would make him feel better but it didn't. He felt cleaner, more awake maybe, but not better.

As Frank headed into the shower, Laura and Fenton Hardy sat at the kitchen table with coffee mugs in hand.

"You know he needs to start back to school Monday," Laura said softly to Fenton.

Fenton stared into the black steaming liquid in his cup and absently stirred the coffee with a spoon. He didn't add sugar or creamer, but he liked to stir it to cool if off slightly. It also gave him something to do while he spoke with his wife. "He's not going to want to go."

"I know he's not going to WANT to go. What I said was he NEEDED to go." Laura's tone was gentle. She knew that her husband took comfort in having his oldest son around as he met dead end after dead end. Frank was his cheerleader and his encourager. However, she also knew how much Fenton hurt each time he looked into Frank's eyes and told him there was nothing new. "There are still a couple of weeks left in school. He has tests to take for end of course grades."

"You know they'd let him take them later because of the extenuating circumstances." Fenton put in as he finally glanced up from his coffee.

"I know they would. I think they'll also work with us if he does absolutely horrible on them because of the extenuating circumstances. He's been out of school for two weeks and I know it will be hard for him to go back, but I think it will be good for him." Laura looked into Fenton's eyes. She wouldn't and couldn't say what they both feared. What if Joe didn't come back? What if Frank had to go to school for his senior year without his brother? No. The words wouldn't be said, but they were thought and then pushed to the dark corners of their minds.

Fenton took the spoon out of his coffee and laid it on the napkin. Picking up the mug he took a long drink of the dark strong brew before setting it down. "I know you're right. I'll talk to him at breakfast."

Reaching across the table, Laura put her hand over top of Fenton's. "No. We'll talk to Frank. Together."

Fenton gave her a weak smile as the door to the kitchen opened and Frank walked in.

Frank looked at his parents. Something seemed a little different. They weren't usually this quiet in the mornings, although things were a lot quieter since Joe went missing. Part of it was their sadness at him being gone but a large portion of it was Joe's bubbly nature once he woke up… and usually food woke him up. Looking between his two parents, he asked, "Is there something going on?"

Laura patted his spot at the table. "Sit down, honey. We need to talk."

"I already don't like the sound of this," Frank said as he cautiously seated himself. Looking to his father, he asked, "What's this about?"

Wrapping his hands around his coffee mug, Fenton replied, "It's about school."

"Uh-uh." Frank said.

"Frank-" his mother began but was cut off.

"I'm not going back without him." Frank's voice was raised.

"Frank, being out of school for two weeks isn't good for you when there's nothing you can do. We want you to have something normal back in-"

It was Fenton who was cut off this time by Frank. Standing up, he raised his arms in the air. "And what part of going to school without Joe is normal? If you think it is, you're wrong." Frank punctuated the statement with a pointed finger in his father's direction.

Laura tried again, "We know it won't be normal. We're not saying that it is normal. We're just saying that we think being back around your friends in a routine that is familiar will be normal."

Turning his ire toward his mother, Frank bitterly said, "Getting looks of pity from everyone at school isn't normal. Everyone looking at me and feeling sorry for me or asking me how things are…" Frank sunk back down in his chair and laid his head on his crossed arms that were on the table. "I don't want to go," he said softly.

Laura looked across the table at Fenton and played her trump card. "Iola's going back on Monday and I think she could really use you there."

Raising his head slowly, Frank said, "Iola's going Monday."

"Yes."

His head dropped back to his arms as his muffled words came out. "I bet her parents are making her go too."

Laura shot Fenton a rueful smile. There was some truth in her son's words, but Iola was also tired of staying at home.

"You'll go?" Laura asked.

Frank sat up in his chair. "Yes, I'll go."

.**********.

From the moment Frank had decided to go to school, he had been on a mission. He would do whatever he could to make Iola's return to school as easy on her as possible. He knew what she would be going through and he knew that all the hurt couldn't be avoided, but he could help where he could. On Saturday and Sunday, he worked with Chet, Phil, Biff, Tony, and Callie to work social media to let their friends know that Iola would need some space. The gang also used it to let people know that Frank would need the same. Fenton placed a call to the school principal who promised to alert staff and do what they could come Monday.

When Monday morning came, Frank was waiting at the student entrance for Iola. He ignored most students as they walked by. He acknowledged well-wishes with a brief nod of his head. He didn't want to be rude and he knew that most of them meant well, but he didn't want their good wishes, he wanted Joe back. Looking toward the parking lot, he saw Chet and Iola coming toward him. In a moment, Callie was soon with them and they walked on either side of her providing a buffer.

As they came closer to the school, Frank could almost see Iola starting to tear up. In just a moment, she dropped her book bag and ran to throw herself in Frank's arms. He held her close as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"We'll get through this together," he whispered to her. He felt her nod and then she pulled back and swiped at her eyes.

Iola gave him a tearful smile and said, "I at least had the sense not to wear eyeliner today and my mascara's waterproof."

Frank returned her smile and looked over her shoulder to see Chet and Callie coming up with her book bag. Chet nodded at him and Frank put his arm around Iola and turned to walk into the school. The two had agreed that whomever Iola seemed most comfortable with would be the one to walk with Iola while the other ran interference. Chet had hoped it would be him, but when she ran to Frank at the entrance, both he and Frank knew it needed to be Frank.

The trio walked Iola to her locker and then to class with other friends joining them to help clear the way. It seemed to take forever to get to the lockers and down the long hallway to Iola's first class. Neither Iola nor Frank could look at Joe's locker.

When they reached Iola's math class, Frank held her gently by the arm and said, "Wait here after the bell rings. We'll come for you."

Iola smiled weakly again. "I can do it, Frank. You don't have to do this."

"No, I don't have to. I want to." He pointed to their friends standing in the hallway. "We all want to and you know that you and Joe would do the same if this had been Callie." Frank saw her head drop and wondered if he had gone too far saying that when she lifted her head. There was a gleam in her eye.

"You're right, Frank. Joe would do this. I'll see you after the bell." With a nod of her head she turned and made her way toward the seats.

Frank watched her go and saw the looks of pity and sympathy on many faces. Some of those glances turned toward him and he spun around and left the doorway in a rush. He didn't want those looks. He didn't need those looks. Joe was coming back.

Callie ran to catch up with him through the remaining students in the hallway that hadn't made it to class yet. She didn't have class with him but she was determined to see him to class. "Wait up, Frank," she said a little breathlessly as she caught up with him. She could tell he was about to tell her that she didn't need to do this when she cut him off. "I heard your speech to Iola and I can use it again here you know."

Frowning at her, Frank said, "Yeah, I know. It's just… now that I've accomplished my task of helping Iola to class, I don't have a focus until the bell rings again." He turned to her with a puzzled look as she laughed.

"Only you, Frank Hardy, would think that there was nothing to focus on when headed to an AP (advanced placement) English class." The smile on Callie's face and in her eyes was real.

Frank couldn't help but smile back and said, "You know Joe would have said something just like that, but probably more obnoxious."

Still laughing, Callie agreed.

Arriving at the door to class, Frank gave her a quick hug. "Thanks," he simply said.

"Anytime," was her equally brief answer as she turned to hurry to her first class.

Frank watched her until she turned the corner and then he drew a deep breath. He wanted to just look at the floor as he walked to his desk, but he was determined that he would keep his head up. A show of confidence and not despair was what his classmates needed to see. That was the only thing that would ward off pitying looks.

As he sat and looked at the board, Frank knew Callie was right. He could focus on his English class. Maybe it would help to take his mind off things – at least for a little while.

They proceeded in a similar fashion with the group meeting Iola after each class. Lunch was particularly hard on the group as it was painfully obvious that Joe wasn't with them. The end of the day came as a blessing.

As Frank walked out beside Iola, he turned to her and said, "We made it."

"Yes we did," Iola said. Turning to Chet she asked, "Do you think we could go to Mr. Pizza's?"

Chet looked at her in surprise before glancing at Frank. "Um, do you really want to do that, Iola? I mean, the memories and all."

Reaching out, Iola gently squeezed his arm and replied, "Yes, I do want to do it. I don't want to run from my memories of Joe anymore. Today in the one class he and I have together, I sat in his seat." She saw Chet's eyes widen. "I didn't care what looks people gave me. They don't know Joe like I do. He'll find a way to get back to us or let us know where he is." She turned to Frank. "I want to be places that remind me of him. I'm not afraid of them."

Frank was amazed. He himself had been avoiding a number of places, especially Joe's room. Being in those places hurt to know he wasn't there too. But he could see her point. Except for lunch, he had made it through the classes pretty well. Nodding at Iola, Frank said, "Okay. If you can do it, so can I."

The smile that he saw on Iola's face was one he hadn't seen in weeks.

Iola linked her arm with Frank's and said, "Mind if I ride with you?"

"Not at all," Frank said as he looked at Chet. "That okay with you, Chet?"

Chet continued to look at Iola with surprise. He really thought he would be taking home a weeping basket case this afternoon, not this strong confident young woman. "Sure, Frank. I'll meet you there."

Dinner at Mr. Pizza's went fine. At first it felt a little awkward but then they decided to meet here every day to go over the latest news that Frank would get from his dad via the phone. Even if there wasn't any news, they would be together for support.

.**********.

Things went well for the first three days back and then on Thursday, there was a change for the worse. Iola had assured Frank that she was okay and that an escort to every class wasn't needed. She was happy to see him in the morning to start the day, at lunch, and then at the end of school. He had wanted to continue and she almost let him, but he remembered her saying that he could do it too. Sighing, he closed the door to his locker. She was right. He had been providing escort as much to help himself as to help her, but she wasn't an invalid and everyone had seemed solicitous to her. However, he had caught the whispers of a few of the guys that didn't really like him or Joe. These guys thought that the Hardys received preferential treatment and resented the boys for it. Turning from his locker, Frank hoped they stayed away from Iola… and him.

Frank had only taken a few steps when he heard a voice from behind him, "Shame about Joe." Frank stopped and turned, Hal Rooker - one of the guys that didn't care for either Hardy. Frank just nodded his head and turned back down the hall with a worried looking Chet beside him.

"You've got to be wondering what they're doing to him."

Frank stopped dead in his tracks along with a number of other students who heard the comment. Several students urged Frank to keep walking while several other told Hal to 'shut his pie hole.' Frank knew he should keep walking but he was riveted in place by the words. The words had been uncaring but they were so true. While Chet's voice vaguely penetrated his consciousness, Hal's next words came through crystal clear.

"A pretty boy like Joe… you know what they do with pretty-"

Hal didn't get to finish his comment as Frank spun and closed the distance in just a couple of seconds. The boys went down in a tangle of legs and arms and fists. Frank got in a couple of good punches before Chet and another student hauled him off of Hal. A moment later, the assistant principal showed up and escorted both boys to the office.

Frank was placed in one conference area while Hal was in another. The school nurse came in and provided Frank with an ice pack for his eye. It was the one and only shot that Hal got in.

Thirty minutes later, Frank was still in the conference room but this time with the assistant principal and his father. The administration had several witnesses who said that Hal had provoked Frank and that Hal had often spoken ill of the brothers. However, Frank had started the physical part of the fight and blows were landed. He was suspended for the rest of the week and could come back Monday.

In the car, Fenton said, "Your mother and I aren't going to punish you for this, Frank. Everyone has a breaking point and those comments would have broken me as well."

Frank looked at his father in surprise. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? Am I mad at you for taking out your anger on another student? Well, I'd rather you go to the gym and use the punching bag. I'm not mad and I know that you're really angry at the kidnappers. Hal was just a convenient stand in." Fenton gave a quick side glance at the dark haired boy. "I'm just glad you controlled yourself and didn't use karate on him." Frank was a black-belt and Fenton knew that his son could have inflicted much more serious wounds than just a few bruises and cuts.

Frank turned the window and leaned back at the seat. "I was tempted."

Fenton didn't say anything. Nerves were on edge and feelings were raw. Hopefully, there would be a break with the DNA testing and CODIS. He gripped the wheel tighter and prayed for a break. His family needed it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Joe wanted Frank to have this chapter too, but I told Joe that Frank needed a little more angst.

Chapter 14 was a bonus post for the holiday. I've put myself on a 3 day posting scheduling so as the last regular post was Friday, that puts today as the next regular posting day. Just a warning that this chapter covers a fairly large time frame.

Also, I am not a survival expert. ;-) I have, however, watched way too much of survival shows.

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen**

At the end of ten days, Joe's bruises were fading even though the pain of the ribs continued. During those ten days, he was kept in his room except for trips to the dining room for meals and about an hour each day in the house's library. Joe was glad that they did allow him to take a book back with him when he left; otherwise, he'd have gone stir crazy as they didn't give him any new magazines. The confinement also meant he couldn't do any exercising outside. However, he did exercises in his room to stay in shape because he knew he'd need to be. At meals, Joe noticed that his portions were smaller than Dominic's and unlike Dominic, he didn't get any seconds. With this imposed rationing of food, Joe saw what little body fat he had burn away leaving him with a lean muscular body. Out in the wild, he knew that he would pay for not having the fat reserves and Joe knew that Laird was doing it on purpose.

So when the morning dawned on the day of the new hunt, Joe went downstairs with the mindset that he would evade Dominic Laird again.

After pocketing his granola bar package, Joe walked to the side table where the items to choose from this time were laid.

"Choose five, Joseph."

"Five?" Joe asked as he looked over the items.

"Indeed." As Joe reached for an item, Dominic added, "After all, you'll be evading me for eight days this time." He watched as Joe's hand hesitated only a moment before reaching to get an item. "I figure that since I'm doubling the time, you should have at least one more item to choose."

Joe's first item was the water bottle and clip.

"One."

Next was the iodine tablets as before.

"Two."

Joe shook the bottle and arched a brow at Laird. It was obvious that there weren't enough tablets for him to drink adequately for eight days.

Laird shrugged and said, "You'll just have to be judicious in how often and how much you drink."

Joe's eyes fell on a gallon size zip bag and he picked it up.

"Three."

The pocketknife.

"Four."

Duct tape. He skipped the map as he had practically memorized it from the last hunt. The tape would be more important over this longer hunt.

"Five."

The tape was a little cumbersome at the moment, but once Joe was out in the woods, he could use some vine to tie it onto his belt. At Laird's direction, Joe moved to the ornate door to the front yard once again.

"Thirty seconds," Dominic said and at Joe's nod, he started the timer as Joe took off toward the woods.

.**********.

 _Seven days and about twenty-two hours later…_

Joe sat up in the tall cypress tree and looked up through the trees to the morning sky. He had made it. His eight day evasion would end in a few hours, but he wasn't coming down anytime soon. He wanted to be sure that he had exceeded the time frame. It would be absolutely horrible to mess up now. The duct tape had been absolutely incredible to have on this hunt. He'd used it for bandages, fixing a leak in his water bottle, and attaching his knife to a stick so he could spear things. It was great to use when he fixed a seat of sorts in his sleeping tree so that he was more comfortable and didn't fall out. It was also part of his climbing gear. Using his previous knowledge and having the bag and tape, he'd made it through with far less run-ins with Laird than he had expected. In fact, he was concerned about the scant number of times he'd even been close to being seen, much less caught. Laird might have wanted a challenge, but Joe doubted he wanted this much of one.

When he decided that enough time had elapsed, he went down the tree. He had thought about staying up in the tree and trying to escape later, but he had been around the entire swamp perimeter now and there was no escaping via that route. He was also out of drinkable water. He had gotten some water from his solar still, but not much and there was no way he could build a fire out here and not get caught. Laird would bring in every employee he had and hunt him down and the penalty, he knew, would be harsh.

Joe left the tape and bag in the top of the tree. If there was another hunt, he wouldn't need to take those things. He would have loved to have left the knife, but he had a feeling that Laird would want it returned or there might be a penalty for that as well.

Dropping to the ground, Joe made his way back to the compound. As he stepped up onto the high ground, Dominic's voice rang out.

"On your knees! Hands behind your head!"

Joe saw Laird coming toward him with Hans at his side. In his hand was a dart gun. Joe sat back on his feet in his kneeling position with his hands still behind his head.

Laird's congratulatory tone sounded forced to Joe's ears as he said, "Excellent job again, Joseph. You are everything I expected." Laird looked at Joe for a moment in silence. "Take one hand down and empty your pockets."

Joe did as requested and the knife fell to the ground. Joe undid the water bottle for good measure and placed it down as well before returning his hand behind his head.

Nodding, Dominic said, "All right. Up and walk in front of me to the back entrance. You'll be showering and changing before seeing the doctor again."

.**********.

 _Forty-five minutes later…_

"Well, he's becoming malnourished and he's slightly dehydrated, but overall, he's in good shape. He has a small case of poison ivy on his leg as well as some blisters on his feet, but both will heal pretty quickly." Dr. Ramsey turned from the Lairds to Joe and asked, "How are your ribs, Joe?"

"Better. If I run they hurt and breathing while I'm running isn't pleasant." Joe replied as he glanced toward Dominic.

"That's to be expected. They'll be doing better every day though." Turning back to the Lairds, he said, "His feet need to dry out again, but he should be ready in about a week."

Laird looked thoughtfully at Joe as he responded to Ramsey. "Thank you, doctor. I'll take your recommendation under advisement."

Joe knew with that response that he wouldn't be getting a week. The tone and look in Laird's eyes told him as much.

.**********.

Dinner that night was a serious affair and there were no congratulations on a job well done for Joe. Thinly veiled hostility radiated off of Laird this night. After Joe finished his meal and stood to leave, Laird looked up from his dessert to say, "Four days."

Joe nodded and walked from the room to find George in the entryway waiting to escort him back to his room. As he walked, he thought about it. In four days he would be prey once again and this time Laird would make sure he didn't evade him.

.**********.

The morning of the fifth day began as all the two others where he went on the hunt. He was provided with clothes and a wrapped granola bar.

Dominic Laird looked up from his still steaming plate of scrambled eggs, fried bacon, and hash browns as Joe put the bar in his pocket. Leaning back in his chair, he surveyed the youth before him. The boy was a lot smarter than his sixteen years and the impulsive teen he had read and heard about wasn't to be seen in this calm and deliberate boy in front of him. Perhaps he'd see some of that famed temper this morning. Crossing his hands across his stomach, he looked at Joe and said, "You are to evade me for three days." He saw Joe's look of surprise and stood. Together they walked over toward the table with the selection of items. Before Joe could select anything, Laird held up his hand. "This time there's a change." Dominic took some pleasure in the look of apprehension he could see on Joe's face. He picked up what looked like a watch and said, "Stick out your right arm please." When Joe complied, Dominic put the band around his wrist and tightened it. "Sensors have been placed around the grounds where the high ground drops to the swamp. The swamp is off-limits in this hunt."

Joe stared at Laird. Taking away the swamp took away his advantage and that was why Laird did it. Joe shouldn't have bothered arguing, but he had had enough. "It takes away two thirds of the compound." He couldn't help the anger that crept into his voice.

Dominic smiled. "Yes, it does. But then, you have to evade me for less than half of the days you had to for the previous hunt. I think it's a fair trade."

Joe went to argue, but knew it was fruitless. Somehow he managed to curb his tongue and instead asked, "So what does this bracelet do?"

"That is similar to the invisible fence collars that dogs wear. It will shock you if you go near the boundary. Not a debilitating shock, but enough for you to know that you've gotten too close to the prohibited area. It will also notify the security system at that time, but only if you go near the fence and activate it. So my advice to you is to stay away from the swamp." Dominic continued to smile as he saw the tension and anger mounting in the teen. Looking down at the table he lightly said, "Now you can make your selections. Three items."

Joe's head snapped to Dominic but he bit his tongue. _Three items. Crap!_ Joe looked at the table and picked up the water bottle and clip and noticed that for the first time it was filled. His eyes searched frantically for the iodine tablets. None.

"Are you taking the water bottle, Joseph?" Dominic asked in a deceptively innocent voice.

Not bothering to answer the question, Joe said, "There're no iodine tablets."

"No, there's not."

"There's no water on the high ground in the compound. How do you expect me to get water?" Joe's voice held all the anger he felt.

Dominic's voice turned hard in response. "I'm not here to provide you with everything you need. It's called survival for a reason. Now, three choices."

Joe clipped the water bottle to his belt loop.

"One," Laird said.

Joe looked back to the table. No iodine tablets. At least the knife was there.

"Two. One more item."

 _Three days on the high ground_ , Joe thought. _What will help me most_? Joe grabbed the duct tape. It had been incredibly helpful last time.

"Three."

Turning on his heel, Joe headed for the front door. He was barely controlling his irritation at the situation. He supposed it said something that he was no longer just angry at having been kidnapped and hunted but was irritated because his captor had changed the rules of engagement so to speak. Before, he had a routine and a grasp on the situation. Laird had just thrown him for a loop and he was still trying to figure out how he was going to evade for three days when he had precious little to cover his scent trail. The fringe of his mind that was paying attention to Laird heard the crucial word, "Go." And Joe went just has he had before.

.**********.

By nightfall, Joe had laid an overlapping scent trail through the two forest types that made up the majority of the high ground. There was a large band of yellow pines that ran along the fence-line. Some of the trees were mature and very tall with a heavy layer of needles blanketing the ground below them. The area right next to the fence and in a few spots where some trees had been thinned out had young fifteen foot tall pines that grew close together and were difficult to move between. The other forest type lay between the pines and the house/yard part of the compound. It was primarily old growth hardwoods that were deciduous. A few evergreens were interspersed, but the majority were towering trees that left the forest floor in either dappled light or deep shade. The pine section was very quiet to walk through, but the trees had lost most of their lower limbs so he was very exposed when in those sections as he couldn't climb those trees quickly. The hardwood section was great for climbing and staying hidden, but the forest floor was littered with crackling leaves, small sticks, and a variety of other noise-making hazards.

As Joe sat high in the top of an oak tree that had to be over one hundred years old, he scratched at his groin area. Another thing about the pine forest was the bugs you couldn't see. He hadn't had any problems while in the swamp when he could slather himself in mud… although the buzzing of the mosquitoes in his ears at night had come close to driving him insane. But these invisible bugs left behind red welts that seemed the most prevalent on his torso. Joe figured he had probably gotten them as he was digging around in some of the pine straw. As he scratched now at his stomach, he wished he had on briefs. Perhaps the elastic would have help keep the bugs away from more sensitive areas.

At least the itching distracted him from his thirst. He had been unable to ration the water. It just wasn't enough and by early afternoon it was gone. His profuse sweating from moving around in the heat hadn't helped anything. He had found some grubs and eaten them, their meager juices only helping a little. Joe had also started digging a hole in the hopes that water would collect in it. But even though the ground was cold and damp feeling where he dug, no water had collected in it. He would continue checking it, but he didn't have high hopes for it.

As he continued to scratch gently, he thought back to earlier in the day when he had tested the barrier to the swamp. While he didn't know for certain whether a signal was transmitted, he did receive a shock. The shock occurred far enough from the swamp edge to send him back into the forest. Without the iodine tablets, he just couldn't chance drinking the swamp water and getting intestinal problems.

Joe glanced up through the leaves to a small patch of sky he could see. A few twinkling lights stood out against the darkness, but no rain clouds. Drawing in a deep breath, Joe thought of Iola and the Valentine's dance back in elementary school when he had first danced with her. It seemed so long ago. The innocence of that dance contrasting vividly in his mind with the horror of the last few weeks. His head hurt – a symptom of dehydration. Joe's mind returned to Iola. He had to hang on. She would never truly get over this if he didn't make it back. He closed his eyes in an effort to help ease the pain in his head. A penalty was surely coming his way because he didn't see making it two more days. Whatever it was, he'd have to survive it and keep fighting. With thoughts of Iola still in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

 **A/N:** The invisible bugs are real. In the south we call them 'red bugs' or 'chiggers' depending on where you are from. But the itching is quite severe!


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen**

Joe awoke to find his headache was still with him. He grimaced as he made his way down the tree. Things were spinning slightly as he climbed down and he knew that his light-headedness was another symptom of dehydration. Water was on his mind as he made his way to a clearing between the forest and the swamp.

Standing in the edge of the trees, he listened intently and looked for signs of activity. Seeing none, he pulled out his knife and cut a six inch band of cloth off from around the bottom of his shirt. Pocketing the knife, he held the strip of cloth in his hand and walked into the clearing. As he walked, the foot high grass grazed against his legs and a smile came to his face. Dropping to the ground with the material, he began rubbing the cloth over the grass. The heavy dew soaked into the shirt and was soon very wet. Joe put the material in his mouth and closed his eyes with relief as he sucked some moisture from the material. It wouldn't be enough to relieve his dehydration, but maybe it would help hold off other symptoms like muscle cramping and vomiting. Both of which would have dire consequences for him if he was being chased.

Joe stayed in the clearing with the grass and heavy dew until the sun had dried it to the point that it was no longer profitable. Doubling up the cloth, Joe put it over his head and around his neck similar to a scarf. If nothing else, it was wet and cool. With his mind a little clearer, Joe started toward the fence line.

Joe walked until he arrived at an area that he estimated to be halfway between the swamp and the gate out of the compound. He decided it was worth another look around to see if there was a way over the fence… perhaps he could build a ladder with some branches and tape- His thoughts were suddenly cut off as the sound of barking could be heard further down the fence-line back toward the swamp.

Turning into the pine thicket that bordered the open strip, he put his arms up to push low-lying branches out of the way. Rough bark scraped his arms and pine needles slapped at his face threatening to blind him as he drove forward at an almost reckless pace. As he entered the hardwood forest he stopped to listen for a moment as he caught his breath. This was a section of the woods he hadn't explored as much and he hated that they were hunting him in an unfamiliar territory. Joe turned and looked behind him… there was barking in the distance but then… he looked to his right. There was barking in that direction as well. Dominic and George each had a dog and were tracking him. His breathing dramatically increased at the thought and the lack of fluid was catching up to him as he felt his calf muscles start to tense. Joe grabbed a nearby sapling to steady himself and then moved into the forest further. Because of the multiple directions that his pursuers were coming from, he needed to go deeper into the unexplored part of the forest. It was actually a section that bordered the driveway. Joe had stayed away from this area in the past because he had spotted a couple of security cameras for the driveway and didn't want to get caught on them. Right now he didn't have a choice and he had a disturbing feeling that he was being driven in this direction.

Joe was nearing the open area that was the driveway when he stopped for a breath. Across on the other side of the open path was a section of forest that he had spent part of the previous day in. With a quick backward glance, he began jogging toward the break. He could see it in front of him when he was brought suddenly to the ground. A gut-wrenching cry of pain escaped his lips as he fell and the pain that radiated from his right leg was excruciating. Hitting the ground hard, he rolled over to his back and tried to catch his breath as another scream threatened to tear itself from his throat.

His body tried to curl into a fetal position so he could reach the pained area but as his legs pulled up, something pulled his leg back. Lying on his back, Joe pushed himself up on his elbows so that he could look at his legs. While he knew what he would probably see, it was still a shock to see a large metal animal trap clamped on his right calf. Joe closed his eyes momentarily as he leaned his head back in frustration. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to a sitting position and scooted his butt forward while putting as little pressure as possible on his trapped foot. Reaching forward, he grabbed the chain attached to the trap and pulled. But it was to no avail. The trap was solidly anchored. Maneuvering around a bit so he was sitting near where the trap was anchored, he grasped the chain with both hands and pulled with all the strength he had left. Joe grunted with the effort but was not rewarded for his efforts. He didn't know how they were anchored, but he knew he wouldn't be getting away in that fashion. Turning his attention to the trap itself, he grasped the two 'jaws' and pulled. Once again to no avail. Looking at the trap, he couldn't find any mechanism to open it but did see some slots that might be for keys. Without the key or keys, he wasn't escaping.

Joe was feeling very hot from all the exertion, but he was producing very little sweat. The small amount of liquid he had managed to get that morning had been burned up in his effort to evade Laird. Thinking back on the morning, he realized now that he had been directed to this area. Since his pursuers had not yet shown themselves and the barking had ceased, Joe figured they had heard his cry of pain and were waiting. _Great,_ he thought as he lay back down on the ground to think. _They're letting me lie out here and dehydrate further while my leg throbs with pain._ He knew he needed to sit back up and assess the damage to his leg, but did it really matter? _What am I going to do? If it's broken I can't do anything._ He had noticed that the trap seemed to be set to close only so far. It appeared that Laird only wanted to cripple him, not sever a limb or cause excessive bleeding. Laird. He'd be back to taunt him with failing to evade him for three days. Failure to evade meant a penalty. _Penalty,_ Joe thought as he closed his eyes with the knowledge that penalty for him was sure to equal pain.

.********.

"Wake up, Joseph."

Joe heard the voice but it was hard to concentrate and even harder to open his eyes.

"Wake up!"

This time the words were accompanied by a small kick to Joe's side. Joe groaned and forced his eyes open as he realized that harder kicks were sure to follow if he didn't. Opening his eyes didn't do much for him though as everything looked fuzzy and his stomach started to roll. Turning quickly to the side, he emptied the meager contents of his stomach into the leafy litter beside him. He spit what he could before he rolled onto his back once again.

Dominic looked down at the boy and said, "Is that any greeting for your host?"

Joe would have loved to have voiced a sarcastic comment but he was unable to come up with one. He blamed it on the dehydration.

George moved to Joe's feet and soon had the trap open. The jangling keys were put back into one of George's vest pockets. Standing up, George looked at Laird and said, "I don't think he can stand up."

Dominic frowned and nudged Joe with the toe of his boot again. "Stand up, Joseph."

Pushing himself up, Joe managed to get to his hands and knees. When he attempted to stand however, he ended up back on all fours.

Sighing, Dominic said to George, "Bring him to the post."

As George bent down to get Joe up and into a fireman's carry, he said to Laird, "Do you think he's in any shape to take the penalty tonight?"

Laird looked at the limp form of the boy over George's shoulder and said, "The penalty is always administered when the subject is returned to the house."

"Yes, sir," George said and began moving toward the house with Hans and Laird following. Joe had no knowledge of the exchange as he had blacked out once again.

.********.

Joe felt a stinging slap on his face and quickly opened his eyes. George was holding him up; his muscular arms under each of Joe's arms. Dominic was in front of him. Things were still fuzzy, but he was once again awake and as he cast his blurry gaze around, he realized he was in the yard near the house. Dominic moved to the side and Joe saw a pole. He blinked at it several times and then turned his gaze to the house. His metal-grated window could be seen on the second floor. This was the pole he could see from his window. A bad feeling began to creep over Joe and he shook his head from side to side.

Dominic watched as some basic form of comprehension came over Joe. "In just a moment, Joseph, George will secure you to the pole. After which I will inflict your penalty. Once the penalty is complete, you'll be taken for medical care." Dominic waved his hand in the air, "I know that your lack of evasion should mean no medical care, but I paid too much for you to have you get an infection or some such nonsense." Laird gave a nod to George.

Joe was still shaking his head when George moved toward the pole. George's body pressed against his to hold him in place against the pole. The larger man seemed to realize that Joe would just fall to the ground if he didn't provide some sort of support. "Don't," whispered Joe, but there was no response from George.

Pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, George secured one of Joe's wrists to a metal loop on a side of the pole. Another pair of cuffs was soon produced and his other wrist secured. Joe pressed himself to the pole and reached up to hold on to the chains of the handcuffs. His eyes closed as he pressed against the pole. The wood of the pole was smooth and the pole was firmly anchored. It was all Joe could do to remain standing. His eyes were pressed shut when he heard Laird speak as George cut what was left of his shirt off.

"I'll be using a wide belt to give you ten lashes. It will inflict the pain that you deserve but should not cause a lot of bleeding."

Joe was amazed at the matter of fact tone that Laird used. But then, he shouldn't be surprised by this point in his stay.

"After the lashes, there is final part of the penalty. One that is more lasting." A tone of satisfaction could be heard in Dominic Laird's voice.

Moments later Joe cried out in pain as the belt connected with his back. Fire lanced across his back with each blow. By the time the last lash was inflicted, Joe was practically hanging from the cuffs. Joe felt, rather than saw George release him from the cuffs. He landed with a cry on his back and rolled slowly to his stomach as his back and leg both screamed in pain.

Dominic pulled a medical scalpel from his pocket and removed the protective guard. Kneeling beside Joe, he said, "To make sure you remember this failure, I'm going to give you a scar to remember it by. Each time you fail to evade me, you will receive a new one." Motioning to George, Joe was soon rolled onto his back, his eyes flickering open. George pulled Joe's hands above his head and restrained them. It was easy for Dominic to see Joe's ribs. Running a finger in the depression between the bottom two ribs on his right side, he took the scalpel and made an incision. Joe screamed as the blade went into his skin so easily. It was about two inches long and deep enough that it would require stitches. Standing up, Laird concluded with, "I'm sure you'll remember this, Joseph." Then he turned to George and said, "Take him to the clean up room. I'll call for Dr. Ramsey."

That was all Joe heard before he passed out once again.

* * *

 **A/N:** Poor Joe, I didn't realize how often he was passing out.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe says he's had enough and demanded that Frank return in the next chapter. So Frank will be back in Chapter 18. But a warning as this is a short chapter.

And here's a couple of answers to some questions that arose after the last chapter:

\- **How much does Laird pay his minions so they turn a blind eye?** Well, you'll find out George's reasons later. However, history has borne out that people are willing to let atrocity happen under the right conditions. I really don't see many minions in his employment (George, cook/waiter, perhaps a housekeeper, the guy that patrols the outiside). Perhaps they are on the fringe of society - outcasts or ex-cons. I'm sure they have their reasons and once they let it happen once, they may feel compelled to secrecy to hide their guilt.

\- **Will Fenton and Frank trap any of the minions when they return to clean up the house where the teens were held?** Hmmm, I could make you wait on that one, but I won't. Nope. I would expect the clean-up crew to wait 6-8 weeks before coming in to sweep the place clean and pick up the vehicles. During this time, I'm sure the it would have gotten out in the media that Iola had given the FBI clues to house location and that Wiseman knows the place has been compromised. We're going to have to bet everything on that DNA evidence the FBI collected from the basement.

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen**

Awareness came back slowly. Pain was the last thing he remembered. Blood hotter than his skin running down his side. Searing pain across his back and a throbbing ache in his leg that hadn't dulled over the hours since it began. That was what he remembered. His fingers moved and felt the soft sheet under his fingers. He had been returned to his bed. Joe wondered what was more disturbing to him: the fact that someone had once again been changing his clothes or the fact that he now thought of this small plain room as 'his.' Contemplation of those thoughts was broken by a voice. George.

"Back with us now?"

A creak of a chair signaled to Joe that George had been sitting in the room watching him. Opening his eyes, he found that he was indeed back in 'his' room. When he opened his mouth to speak all he could do was cough. George immediately came over and held a glass with a straw toward him. Joe tried to sit up further but gasped in pain at the movement and George moved the straw to his lips instead and he drank gratefully. He wanted to drink more, but George removed the straw.

"Doc said not to give you too much to start off with. You need to let the IVs get your hydration level back up he says."

It was then that Joe noticed his surroundings. He was propped up with two or three pillows behind his back and his leg was elevated on one or two more. A grimace marred his face as he realized that someone had indeed changed his clothing, but then, he had been bloody and filthy. A bandage was on his lower right ribcage. As he shifted on the bed, it felt as if there were bandages on his back as well. With his mouth moistened, Joe could now speak. "What was the damage this time?"

George moved to the foot of the bed and looked at the youth that had bested Laird twice and was only caught this time because Laird had made evasion impossible. "Besides being severely dehydrated and a large number of bug bites, Ramsey said that he thought you didn't break your leg. Without having an MRI he believes that it is a bone bruise on your tibia."

"Bone bruise?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, don't ask me to explain it all. Doc said something about fibers in the bone being broken but not the bone itself. Said it was painful-"

"No joke." Joe deadpanned.

George continued as if Joe hadn't spoken. "-but wouldn't require a cast or anything but that you should keep it elevated and off of it for about six to eight weeks."

Joe paled. He knew there was no way that Laird would let him be off for that long. "Six weeks-"

This time George broke in. "Six to eight weeks." George could see the boy was terrified and he had a good reason to be. His voice lowered and sounded almost caring, "Don't worry, Joe, he's not going to get rid of you. He paid too much and you're too good."

Joe closed his eyes and rested his head completely on the pillow. His eyes snapped open when he heard another voice.

"Ahhhh, good, he's awake." Marilyn Laird's voice was smooth and even.

Entering the room, she moved past George to stand next to Joe's bed. Her eyes traveled slowly over his body before returning to his face. Joe had the urge to pull the sheet up higher on his exposed chest, but he resisted the urge thinking it might give her ideas.

Looking back over her shoulder at George, she asked, "Do you need help with his bandages, George?"

"No, Mrs. Laird, I'm fine." George's tone was even.

Marilyn reached out a manicured finger and trailed the hot pink nail down the center of Joe's chest until it stopped at the sheet which was just an inch or so above his navel. "Pity," was all she said as she looked Joe in the eye and then turned and left.

Looking at George, a question was in his eyes but he was afraid to ask.

"No, she won't touch you like that. She flirts but she's never done anything. Just don't flirt back. One boy made that bad decision thinking he might find a way out. Dominic learned of it and his death was incredibly painful."

"Don't worry; I have no plans of flirting back."

George sat back down in his chair. "Didn't think you would. I understand that you're really close with your girlfriend."

Joe's eyes shot to George's. He didn't want to talk about Iola, his family, or his friends with anyone in this house. For all he knew, they'd use the information against him or against them. But George seemed to understand this and didn't make any further comments. Joe was about to close his eyes to rest when he had a thought… one that scared him a little. "George, what is Laird going to do while I'm recovering?"

Looking away from the boy in the bed as he stood and walked away, he replied, "He's bringing in fresh game." With that he exited the room as Joe's heart started racing and his breathing quickened which pained his cut side. Leaning heavily into the pillow, he stared up at the ceiling.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Posting early because last chapter was short. ;-) Frank is back! But actually Fenton upstages him somewhat. Joe will be back in the next chapter.

*I am also not an FBI expert. The workings of the FBI in this story are part of my Hardy-verse. ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen**

 _While Joe had been recuperating from his 2_ _nd_ _swamp hunt, things had finally improved for the Hardys in Bayport…_

Frank hurried with his book bag down the hallway toward the office. It wasn't even lunch yet and he was being called to the office. At least this time he wasn't in trouble. Hal had stayed away from him and it seemed that most of the students were running interference for him with any of the students who might say something that would tick him off. As he opened the door to the office, he could only hope the summons had something to do with Joe's case. Something positive that is. Just that morning, Frank had practically blown up at his father…

"I don't know why it's taking so doggone long, dad!" Frank had said that morning. He had paced back and forth across the kitchen as he spoke while waving his hands in the air. "Joe and the others are out there! They can be rescued and recovered if they just process the evidence!"

Fenton had watched his older son with sympathy. He had in fact been surprised that Frank hadn't had more blow-ups about the slow pace of the process. Then again, Frank was the one to keep things in. That small fight at school was just a hint of the emotions that were simmering just below the surface in the teenager. But while Frank held it in, Joe was the one prone to blow-ups. Hopefully that tendency wasn't getting Joe into more trouble wherever he was. Bringing his attention back to his son, he said, "It should be any day now, son. The FBI has promised to inform us when they have something."

They were too close to the case to do investigating for the bureau. The possibility that evidence could be thrown out due to Joe being a victim and them investigating was too much of a possibility. However, the FBI had said they would allow them to research for them and be on hand if there was a possibility of recovering Joe. But they couldn't do legwork or be the first on-scene. Fenton had settled Frank down and he had gone off to school where he felt useful, at least in regards to Iola.

Fenton now stood in the administrative office waiting for Frank and Iola to reach him. The Mortons were on their way to pick up Iola so she wouldn't have to stay the rest of the day. He felt it was only fair that she be included. In addition, he knew the kids met after school and Frank's absence would be immediately noted. The Mortons would inform Chet who could let the group know what was up. Hearing the door open behind him, he turned and saw Iola's worried face. Standing quickly, he said, "It's okay, Iola. We've just gotten some information and I wanted to tell you in person."

"Is Joe- is Joe-" She couldn't do more than stutter out his name.

Fenton moved over to put his arms around her gently. "We still don't know where he is. I'm sorry. But we have some leads." His head turned as he saw Frank enter the office and close the door.

"You have a lead, dad?" Frank said hopefully as he dropped his book bag to the floor.

Releasing Iola, Fenton gestured to the chairs in the room that the principal had made available to him. "Let's have a seat and I'll tell you what I know."

Both teens quickly took a seat.

"The FBI called me just a short while ago. The DNA test is back and they found a match in CODIS for that large blood sample on the basement floor. They're running checks on his credit cards, driver's license, everything. Once they have something, they'll call me and if possible we'll get to go to wherever he will be questioned." Looking from one to the other, he said, "While this doesn't have to be kept strictly confidential, it is best that we keep it to just our families for now." Both teens nodded and he added, "Frank will be able to tell the group once we hear from the FBI again."

Iola just started crying as she put her head in her hands and Frank stared at his father. It was possible that Joe could be found in the next few days. Hope flared in his heart.

.********.

Tension was thick at the Hardy home that evening. Frank had left with his father. Iola and Chet had also left with their parents before the end of school. Obviously, everyone at school knew something was up, but everyone had the decency not to call or stop by to ask. So now the family sat around the living room with the tv playing some program about antiques from the Boston area. No one was watching, but no one turned it off. The silence would be too oppressive.

Finally, at ten o'clock, the phone rang. Fenton let it ring twice and then picked it up. Frank grabbed the remote and muted the tv.

"Hardy," he said while Laura and Frank looked at him expectantly. "Uh, huh. I see," he said after a moment. "Keep us informed." Then he hung up. Turning to his family he said, "The man's name is Jonathan Byrd. He lives in a small town south of Detroit. They've picked him up for questioning. They're taking him to Detroit."

Frank hopped up, "Well, let's go dad. There's no reason to stay. There's only two more days of school and I've taken all my finals."

Fenton smiled a little at Frank's natural enthusiasm. "I understand why you want to go, but the FBI doesn't want us there yet. They're going to see what they can get from him and let us know. We might just fly out there to find out that Joe is somewhere right here." He saw Frank settle somewhat at that explanation. "In this case, it's better that we wait a little so we make the best decision."

Frank blew out a long breath and flopped onto the couch with his head back and eyes closed. "I just feel like I've been thrown a lifeline, dad. I don't want to let it go."

Laura got up and sat beside her son. She leaned over to wrap her arms around him while he still lounged. "We feel the same, Frank. I finally feel like we've gotten a break. The first one since Iola was found."

Frank wrapped his arms around his mom as he felt her shake with emotion. Sometimes he forgot that he wasn't the only hurting. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against hers. No words were necessary between mother and son. Looking over to his dad, he asked, "Why was Byrd in CODIS?"

"He was arrested for assault but was released when it turned out another guy he was with was the attacker." Fenton watched as Frank's arms tightened around Laura

Fenton sat with the phone still in his hand. He looked at it, wanting it to ring again with news that they wanted to hear. It would be hours probably before they received any news. In the meantime, he and his family would hold on to the hope they had. Turning back to Frank and Laura, he inquired, "Anyone want to go check out info we can find on this guy?"

Laura sat up. "I think we all do." She knew they were all interested and scared at the same time. The man described in the database would have had Joe for five days. The kind of man who could and would do something like that to another human being… well, they knew they wouldn't read anything that would ease their minds. But they needed to know.

"Let's go," Fenton said as he stood, putting the phone on the side table.

An hour later and they only had some sketchy information as Byrd wasn't convicted. What information they were able to find showed he paid his bills on time and had a clean record except for this one incident. An incident that he was not guilty of. They were all uneasy at the thought that if Byrd hadn't been arrested for this incident, then they would have no leads on the case.

.**********.

Within a week, the FBI cut a deal with Jonathan Byrd for information on the trafficking ring. He caved after the DNA evidence was explained and after he had been required to submit voice recordings of things said during the kidnappings. Iola and four other released victims had all positively identified his voice. Knowing that things didn't look good, he cut a deal.

At the end of a week, the FBI picked up a number of the ring members, but all were lower level. They needed to find Larry Wiseman in order to get the details necessary to make a break in the cases of the missing teens. Right now, all they had were the delivery spots for the buyers but none of them were traceable back to who the buyers were or where the teens were taken after delivery. 'Wiseman' was an alias but they were tracking it and finding everything they could to that name. Several houses had been found that were in Wiseman's name and one appeared to have been used recently. In searching the house, luck was finally on their side as a laptop was found hidden in a false bottom of chest.

The files on the computer were in code and the best cryptographers of the FBI were working on it. Frank wished he could work on them himself but even though his dad was Fenton Hardy, he was still just a teenager. The FBI wasn't going to allow him to work on that part of the case. But knowing how much Joe's life might depend on cracking a code, Frank determined that he would apply himself to cryptography and computer hacking in the future… provided there was a future.

 _Two days later, the FBI called…_

"Fenton, this is Gilroy."

"Yes, Agent Gilroy. What's the news?"

"I'm sorry to say that our technicians triggered a virus that has destroyed most of the files on the laptop. It happened when they cracked the code to decipher the file. A password was needed to continue after discovering the code and we didn't have it."

Fenton's heart sank.

"But I'm glad to say that the list of teens and their buyers from the Brewster/Southport/Bayport operation were recovered before the virus kicked in. Since we started with the most recent file, it was the last to be destroyed. It seems that Wiseman kept each operation as a single file and the viral corruption began with the oldest file and worked to the newest. A file that we think is a list of Wiseman's safe houses was also saved. We were lucky to get the information before it was wiped."

While he was extremely glad that information was found regarding Joe, he was greatly saddened for all the parents whose children were in the wiped files. Pushing his sorrow for those parents to the side, Fenton asked in a raspy voice, "Do you know where Joe is?"

"It's the same as where Byrd told us. And it's just the city that was arranged for delivery to the buyer, not the final destination. Agents are on their way to the location to check out the hotel that the group stayed in after the delivery but we don't expect to find anything."

"Why the hell not?" Fenton asked with all the patience of a father.

Gilroy had worked with distraught families enough to not be offended. "Fenton, it's been months and they stayed at the hotel _after_ the drop-off. In addition, all the buyers' names were in code on the file. We ran a search on all them and came up blank. We're checking now to see if any of them are anagrams of real names."

"I suppose it is something, but please tell me you have more." Fenton practically pleaded.

"The list of safe houses has been checked and we think we have found the one that Wiseman is holed up in. Would you like to travel with Agent Stevenson? He's heading to the site where Wiseman is supposed to be." Gilroy knew that speaking to Wiseman would be the best chance that they had of finding the missing teens. But Wiseman might not talk.

"Just tell me the time and place. Frank and I will be there." Fenton's voice was stronger now. He and Frank already had bags packed for different areas of the country. They were ready to go immediately.

"Can you meet him at the airport in two hours?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll let him know you're coming too and to hold two more seats on the plane. He'll fill you in on the details."

"Thank you, Gilroy." Fenton's voice turned raspy with emotion once more.

"Thank me when you get him back, Fenton." Gilroy said as they disconnected the call. He prayed for a positive outcome in the case, but they rarely happened in trafficking cases. The information in the file on Joe's buyer was disturbing. Joe had been taken to North Carolina, but Wiseman was in Vermont. Gilroy wondered what they'd find there and prayed it was enough to locate Joe Hardy and the others.

 _* The end of this chapter coincides with the time at the end of Chapter 17. So we are at the same point in time with each of the story locations. Please don't hold me to a strict timeline. I find that time is slightly fluid in this story and while I'll try to match up times in both locations, someone with a calendar may decide that I'm way off. Consider the fluidity of time to be part of my "HB AU." ;-)_


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating for this chapter is probably more older T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter.

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen**

Joe had been back from his last hunt for three days. During those three days, he had taken all meals in his room. Thankfully, George had been his only visitor; he didn't relish being alone in his room with Marilyn Laird. All he needed was for Dominic to think there was something going on. If Joe's 'penalty' for failing to evade included a whipping and permanent scarring, he didn't want to imagine what Laird would do to someone he really disliked.

Tonight would be his first trip downstairs since his return and he wasn't sure what to expect. George hadn't been forthcoming on the 'new game' that Laird was bringing in and Joe wasn't about to ask about it tonight. At first his imagination had run wild and he had feared that Frank would be the new 'game.' However, he knew that it was way too soon for anyone to target Frank.

Using his crutches, Joe moved to the back wall. _Just like a trained animal_ , Joe thought ruefully. At the usual time, George opened the door and gave Joe an approving glance for his appearance and then stepped back to roll in a wheelchair.

Joe frowned at the chair and then at George. "I don't need it."

"It's a long trip to the dining hall even with the elevator. You'll be exhausted. Bring the crutches; you can walk into the dining hall."

"No," Joe stubbornly said. "I'm going with the crutches unless you plan on forcing me into that chair."

George thought for a moment and asked, "Why won't you use it? Afraid of looking weak?" When he saw Joe's chin tilt up, he knew he was right. "Ahhhh."

Feeling the need to assert himself, Joe said, "I'm not afraid. I just don't want to use it."

"You're afraid," George repeated. "You have good reason to fear Laird, but not in this regard. The doctor has already told him your recovery time. In addition, Laird is always in the dining hall when we arrive. He won't even see you in the chair. You'll go in with your crutches."

Joe looked uncertainly at George. He didn't trust the man, but so far the man hadn't told him any lies. The stubborn streak that was part of Joe's nature screamed at him to say no and use the crutches. But an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Frank said to sit and conserve his energy. Sighing, he moved to the chair and sat. After arranging the crutches at his side, he told George he was ready to go. And just as George had said, they stopped outside the dining hall where Joe stood and placed the crutches under his arms.

Stopping just inside the door as he usually did, he looked down the long table to Dominic Laird… and a stranger. Joe's eyes grew wide. Marilyn wasn't there. Who was this new person?

Dominic waved to Joe and said, "Come on down, Joseph. I have someone I'd like you to meet."

Fear washed over Joe. The 'fresh game' that George had mentioned. He was sure this newcomer was his stand-in for a hunt. Making his way slowly toward the seat that Marilyn usually sat in, he noticed that the newcomer didn't seem upset. As he stopped behind the chair, Dominic sat back down. The boy in the other chair had never stood and just continued eating. At a gesture from Dominic, Joe sat and placed his crutches against the table. Looking at the boy in front of him, Joe guessed that he was probably around his age with almost black hair that was dirty and slightly matted. The boy's clothes were as dirty as or dirtier than his hair and you could smell him across the table. Occasionally, dark eyes lifted from the plate in front of him to glance warily at Dominic or Joe.

"Joseph, I'd like you to meet Morgan." Then Dominc turned to the dirty youth and said, "Morgan, this is Joseph. He has been playing the game I hired you to play."

Joe looked at Dominic. Paying him? Probably not. Maybe he paid him to come with the promise of more money, but there was no way that Dominic was going to let him go… just as he would never let Joe go.

Morgan looked up at Joe and with a mouthful of food said, "Does he always feed you this well?"

Eyes still locked on Dominic, Joe answered, "Yes, until it's time to play the game. Then you're on your own." Still looking at Dominic, Joe asked, "What game is he here to play, Mr. Laird? Is it evasion?"

Dominic sat back and said, "Same game that you played. Seven days to evade. But this time, the penalty is much steeper if he doesn't evade." Laird smiled evilly as he looked at Joe and saw the youth pale.

Turning his attention to Morgan, Joe practically hissed at the boy, "Leave! You need to get out of here now! Go!"

Morgan looked from Joe to Dominic and said, "You said he'd say that."

"Yes. The fever and the pain medication have caused him to be delusional." Focusing on Joe, Dominic said in a placating voice, "It's okay, Joseph. The doctor said you'd be confused about how you were injured."

Looking back and forth between Morgan and Dominic, Joe raised his voice in an effort to make an impression. "He's going to kill you, Morgan! You've got to go! This isn't the first time he's killed someone."

Morgan glanced around the room. It was obvious he didn't think someone living in a house like this was capable of what Joe was suggesting.

Standing and placing his hands on the table, Joe continued his loud description of what was going to happen. He became more furious and frustrated when Morgan was obviously unmoved. Even when Joe painfully removed his shirt to show his back, Morgan didn't seem to take it seriously. Dominic must have told him some story full of lies to explain everything.

Dominic rang for George who had to come in and forcibly remove Joe from the room. Pressing him into the wheelchair, George said he'd get the crutches later.

Sinking into the chair, Joe covered his eyes with his hands. Morgan was going to die on the hunt if he didn't evade. How many more would Dominic bring in until Joe was healed? Obviously, Joe had to get back on the hunt as soon as he was able to stop Laird from killing more innocent people.

When George returned to Joe's room after retrieving the crutches, he could see evidence on the boy's face that he had been crying. For all of Joe's skill at evading Laird and taking punishment that would break some grown men, he was still just sixteen years old. He was getting soft about the boy and it wouldn't do. Eventually, Laird would tire of him just as he had all the others and Joe would be gone. George was about to speak in a scathing tone when Joe looked up at him. The crying had reddened the whites of Joe's eyes and the effect was to make his eyes a most unusual shade of aqua. It would never do for Mrs. Laird to see him like this. Letting out a breath, George changed his tone from what he had planned. "Mr. Laird says you will take your meals in your room until the hunt is over." As he turned to leave he said, "I'll bring you some more books."

Joe nodded and dropped his head. Before George could leave, he softly asked, "Do you think he'll make it?" He couldn't bring his eyes up from the spot on the floor where his gaze was focused.

George looked back at Joe and simply answered, "No," and closed the door softly behind him.

Picking up his crutches, Joe moved over to his window. The days were long right now and it was still very light as he stared over the lawn toward the swamp that had safely housed him for two hunts. He closed his eyes and said a prayer that Morgan would make it through the week. It would take a miracle.

.**********.

Just two days later in the middle of the afternoon as Joe sat reading in his room with his leg propped up, he heard cries from the yard. Dropping the book from his hands to the floor, he quickly pushed himself from the bed. Gripping the crutches tightly, he moved to the window. Looking through his barred window, he whispered, "No," as he touched the glass. Morgan was hobbling quickly toward the house.

"I've been bitten! A snake bit me! I need help! Somebody help me!" Morgan was crying out as he made it to the pole where Joe was whipped and dropped to the ground.

Moments later, Joe saw Laird emerge from shadows at the end of the house. George and Hans were behind him. Joe couldn't tell what Laird was saying but from what he could see, the man was angry. Morgan pulled up his pants leg and motioned. Laird gestured angrily for a few moments and then pulled a pistol from a side holster and shot Morgan. Joe didn't know if it was in the head or the chest or what. He just knew when he opened his eyes, he saw Morgan's body sprawled on the ground. Somehow he felt responsible. He knew he shouldn't, even as Laird turned abruptly and walked away, leaving George to take care of the body. In a numb state, Joe made his way back to the bed and sat on the edge. If George was correct, he'd be eating with Laird tonight. He couldn't even think how he would make it through the meal without throwing up.

.**********.

George had been quiet when he came to assist Joe downstairs to the meal, sensing that the youth wasn't up to conversation.

When the doors to the dining hall closed behind Joe, he stood quietly, waiting for Dominic to summon him. Seeing the gesture that summoned him, he made his way to his usual seat as Marilyn was once again in hers. Seating himself, he sat quietly and looked at the plate of food before him. Thankfully, it was plain food. It would be hard enough to eat without it being something spicy.

"I'm sure you saw what happened from the window, Joseph." Laird said as he laid his utensils down for a moment. "Morgan didn't understand the hunt as you did." He sighed, "He also managed to get himself bit by a cottonmouth. It appeared to be a bad bite and anti-venom isn't something that Ramsey can get easily. It was actually a kindness to put him out of his misery."

Joe felt bile rise up in his throat at Laird's words. Instead of getting Morgan the help he needed at a hospital, it was better to just kill him. Joe had always felt that if his injuries were severe that Laird would allow him to die. This was proof of it.

"You should eat, Joe," Marilyn said from across the table.

Not looking up, Joe picked up his sandwich and took a bite. He stopped chewing as Laird started talking again.

"I think what we need is a change of scenery." Sawing his steak with his knife, he continued, "I have some property up north that borders a remote national park. I've hunted there before, but it's been awhile. I think you will find it refreshing."

"Do you have a lot of properties?" Joe asked.

After swallowing his bite of steak, Dominic said, "I wouldn't say a lot, but I have several and all are in locations where we can hunt without being disturbed. I have them all under different names so that they can't be connected to each other easily."

Taking another bite of his sandwich, Joe could only hope that moving to a different location would provide him with a better chance of escape.

"We'll be leaving within the week. You can convalesce on the trip and at the lodge. I'm giving you three more weeks and then we hunt again." Dominic then turned to Marilyn and suggested she take the time to do some shopping before joining them as she would be bored in that remote location.

Joe stared at Dominic. Three more weeks meant that his leg would have had about a month total to heal. Definitely not the six to eight weeks suggested by the doctor. Chewing the sandwich slowly, Joe tried not to think about the pain ahead.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters. I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** I did some research on plea bargaining, but I'm no expert. Forgive any errors on my part. I did look up the information. I'm sure if anyone checked my search history, it would look strange with me searching for what the charges would be for trafficking and kidnapping and how plea bargaining works.

Also, I'm going to go ahead and upload Chapter 21 tomorrow as it too is a Frank chapter. As much as I love Frank (and I know many of you love him even more), I know you'll want to know what is up with Joe and change of location.

Thanks again for all the kind and encouraging reviews. I appreciate them!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty**

Arriving at the airport with his father, Frank was all tension and harnessed energy. They were taking a commercial flight from Bayport to Vermont. From there they would be picked up by the FBI to wait on the operation to apprehend Wiseman. While he knew Joe wasn't in Vermont, Frank's palms itched at the thought of finally getting closer to locating Joe.

They had no time to talk as they went through security and met up with Stevenson. He apologized as they boarded the plane and Frank saw why. Bayport was a small airport and the plane wasn't a standard size for major airports. There were two seats on the right and one on the left. Knowing his dad should talk to the agent first, Frank took the single seat while his father and Stevenson took the paired seats.

Shortly after take-off, Frank gave up on trying to hear their conversation. They were talking quietly and discretely so that the other passengers wouldn't hear. But that meant that Frank couldn't either. Deciding it was best to just close his eyes, he fell asleep without trying. So it was a somewhat surprised and bleary-eyed Frank that was roused from an uncomfortable sleeping position by his father.

"Time to go, Frank. I'll fill you in while we ride," Fenton said to his still waking son.

"Of course, Dad," Frank said as he stood and stretched. Gathering their carry-on luggage, they headed for the car. Agent Stevenson informed them that other agents would get the rest of their bags and bring them along to the search location.

As the trio walked to the pick-up area at the terminal, Stevenson got a call. He made only a few short one-word comments before putting the phone back in his pocket. Turning to the Hardys, he said, "They've got Wiseman and are bringing him to the local station where we have agents already waiting."

Fenton clapped Frank on the back as they walked at a faster pace. Soon he would see the man who had abducted his son. He would love to get his hands on the man but he knew the FBI wouldn't allow it. Still, maybe they would give him just a minute….

.**********.

Frank and his father looked at the man known as Larry Wiseman through the two-way glass. He was an average looking guy; one that wouldn't stand out in a crowd. His real name was Harold Norwood and he had made the mistake of making some large purchases that connected his alias to his real name. It had taken some digging as the mistake was made a decade ago. Just how long had this guy been trafficking? It was over for him now. The question was, would he strike a bargain or remain quiet?

Agent Stevenson joined them in watching the silent man. "He's waiting for his lawyer to be flown in before talking."

Fenton only grunted. It was the law, but he wanted to go in and shake Joe's location from the man. "How strong is the evidence?"

"Very strong. While Norwood doesn't exactly match the description that Byrd gave us, he's close. In addition, a make-up case of things that can change his appearance was found. He could easily look like Byrd's description with the case contents." Stevenson continued to watch Norwood's expressionless face through the glass. "Credit card charges to his aliases coincide with locations of trafficking and he has large deposits to his bank accounts that have no explanation."

A well-dressed man came down the hall and waited at the door. A guard went in and spoke to Norwood, who rose from his seat. Exiting the room, Norwood saw the Hardys and stopped for a moment before giving them a smirk. Fenton grabbed Frank's arm when he made a move toward the man.

"This isn't the time, Frank," Fenton said softly although he wanted nothing more than to pummel the man himself. But doing such things wouldn't help Joe.

Frank didn't respond, but he didn't continue his forward momentum either. He just stood silently while Norwood just turned and walked away. Frustration was his primary feeling as he turned back toward his father who was still looking in Norwood's direction. "He knows where Joe is. You could see it." Frank's voice was low and filled with frustration.

Closing his eyes, Fenton said, "Yes, he does. I hope he's willing to make a deal."

"I don't want him to make a deal. I want him to pay for what he's done." Frank turned to fully face his father and his hands gestured wildly in a way that was very uncharacteristic for the usually calm teenager. "We don't even know what they've been doing to Joe!" His voice had risen as he spoke and then both his volume and his arms dropped as he said, "We don't even know if he's alive."

Fenton hadn't told Frank yet about what Stevenson had shared on the plane. There hadn't been the opportunity and he was loath to do it now, but it had to be done. "Frank, I need to tell you what Agent Stevenson told me on the plane." He saw Frank's wary look and gestured to a room across from where Norwood had been held.

Sitting down in the small room, Frank leaned forward and waited.

Pulling his tablet from the computer bag he brought with him, Fenton pulled up his notes and turned the screen to face Frank. At Frank's hesitation, Fenton nodded and said, "It'll answer some of your questions."

As Frank read, he paled at the words on the screen: 'repeat buyer; likes smart, athletic, subjects who can survive on their own; special request- one of the Hardy brothers; delivery location- NC.' The notes listed the price paid, specifics on the drop-off and Norwood's own thoughts as to what the buyer was doing. Fenton had listed that Norwood thought that the buyer was hunting the subjects he bought. Frank reread that statement and looked up at his father and whispered, "He's hunting Joe like an animal?"

Fenton's heart hurt as he looked at Frank and he knew that he would not be able to tell this to Laura over the phone. He wouldn't tell her about this part at all, not until he was sure. If it knotted him and Frank up like this, what would it do to Joe's mother? Taking a breath, Fenton replied, "Yes, I think he is."

"Joe's been gone over a month," Frank's voice broke as he tried to get the words out. It was obvious what he was thinking.

"Did you see how much he…" Fenton could hardly say the words, "how much he paid for your brother?" At Frank's nod, Fenton continued, "I don't think he'd hand over that kind of money for Joe and not keep him around for awhile."

Frank nodded slowly. His father made sense, but it was still hard to grasp that for a month Joe could have been struggling to stay alive while some lunatic hunted him. His eyes went back to the tablet and his gaze was drawn to the part about getting 'one of the Hardy boys.' "Iola was right. They would have taken me if we had dropped off Iola first."

"Possibly," Fenton said. He hadn't written down that Norwood's comments said that Frank was an option to take in a few years. He had wanted to spare Frank that, but if Frank and Norwood were to ever be in a room together… well, Frank needed to be forewarned. However, he thought it was enough for now that Frank knew that it was 'chance' that Joe was taken and not him. To follow the group's MO, Norwood had to take Joe that night.

Father and son lapsed into a period of quiet reflection. Neither accepted the offer of food when police officers or agents came by. The wait for Norwood and his lawyer, Reynolds, seemed interminable. How long would they meet before determining the best course for Norwood? Would it be a few hours or a few days? Fenton's head dropped into his hands and wondered how they would keep their sanity knowing that a man in custody had the power to lead them to Joe but refused to do it.

Evening came and Reynolds left. Fenton and Frank watched from down the hallway as Norwood was led away. He didn't act like a man who could face the death penalty or life in prison. He acted… in control. As Fenton placed a hand on Frank's back to direct him to the parking lot and the car waiting to take them to the hotel, he realized that Norwood was in control… and he hated it.

.**********.

The next morning, both Hardys arrived at the station with blood shot eyes and frayed nerves. Fenton's call to Laura hadn't been easy. The issues he and Frank had with Norwood were nothing compared to Laura's. She was ready to fly to Vermont and beat the needed inforamtion out of him herself. The thought actually brought a smile to his face. The FBI's interrogation techniques would have nothing on his wife if she were given the chance.

Agent Gilroy brought them to a conference room. "Reynolds is due back at any time." Gesturing for them to have a seat, he joined them. Looking from Fenton to Frank, he said, "You both look awful. Can I get you anything?"

Fenton shook his head. "No. We've had coffee and a little toast. I'm sure you understand that we don't have much of an appetite." At Gilroy's nod, he asked, "Did Norwood give any indication about what is going on with his lawyer?"

Shaking his head in a negative fashion, the agent responded, "Not a word. However, we're still confident that he'll bargain." Gilroy kept his gaze on Fenton. "You know what that means."

This got Frank's attention. Turning to his father, he asked with a wary curiosity, "What does it mean?"

"It means that Norwood will get some lenience in either the charges or the sentencing… or perhaps both." Fenton's voice was calm. He knew that this wasn't going to sit well with Frank.

Frank's voice was low and fraught with anger, "You mean that for letting us know where Joe and the others are… he'll be rewarded?" His voice went up at the end of his question along with his volume.

Fenton looked to Gilroy for help. This was hard to explain to adults that weren't involved in the sentencing. Explaining to the brother of a victim that may or not be… No, Fenton couldn't even bear to go there in his own mind.

"Would you like for me to explain, Fenton?" Gilroy asked compassionately.

With a sigh of relief, Fenton said, "Thank you."

"Frank… I know you want the people who kidnapped Joe to be punished and they will be. However, we also want to get Joe and the others back. Right now, Norwood has no incentive to do that. Providing us with names and locations just seals his fate."

"So we get names and locations. What does he get?" Frank asked after a moment of reflection.

"I can't say what the prosecutor will offer. But it will probably have to be pretty substantial to get him to talk." Gilroy said matter of factly.

"Without the bargain, what could he get?" Fenton asked.

"Depending on what he was charged with, he could get the death penalty or life in prison."

Fenton and Frank looked at each other. It was an easy decision for them to come to in their mind when the choice was getting Joe back or seeing Norwood go to trial with the possibility of a maximum sentence. Frank looked at Gilroy, "Then let's hope the prosecutor's offering him something attractive."

Gilroy felt better as he left the conference room. While authorities didn't have to have a victim's or a family's consent to plea bargain, it was pleasant when they felt it was a good decision. Now they'd just have to wait and see what happened.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters. I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Chapter 21 as promised! Frank chapter. Next chapter will be Frank and Joe! ...but not together. This is one of my favorite Frank chapters in the story. Hope you like it.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

The federal prosecutor assigned to bargain with Reynolds was Lora Graves. She was a no-nonsense type of lawyer who caused the stereotype of lawyers on tv to look realistic. It was mid-afternoon when she came in with Gilroy to speak to the Hardys. She was of average height with auburn hair sprinkled with gray and she was wearing a dark pinstripe pantsuit. Straightening her tortoiseshell glasses on her nose, she cleared her throat after she sat down.

Fenton didn't like it. "What is it?"

Graves didn't even glance at Gilroy as she answered, "He's willing to deal."

Fenton heard a released breath come from Frank. However, he knew there was more to it than just this. "And…"

"And he'll give us a flash drive that is hidden that contains the real names of the buyers."

Frowning, Fenton asked, "The drive will have the most recent names on it?"

"That's the catch," Lora said. "The drive will have all the names except for the ones from the May kidnappings and the ones planned for November. Those are in Norwood's head. At least that is what he says."

"So what is he getting in exchange for all this information?" Frank finally spoke from his position beside his father.

"He'll still be charged with multiple Class A-1 felony kidnappings, but he will plead guilty and he will receive life in prison without parole."

"That doesn't sound all that good," Frank said with a glance at his father.

"Well, his time will be served at a low to medium security facility."

Fenton practically spat, "One of those country club facilities?"

Gilroy stepped in, "We got him to agree to low or medium. That gives us some leeway. I promise you, it won't be a walk in the park, Fenton."

"I know, Chris. It just seems so-"

"Unfair," Frank finished for him. Quietly he continued, "He can get off with a lighter sentence and Joe could be dead. Drawing a ragged breath, Frank asked the question that was now at the front of his mind. "Who has Joe and when do we get him back?"

For the first time, Lora Graves hesitated. "We don't have the drive yet and Norwood hasn't given us the information yet."

"Why not?" Anger was once again in Frank's voice.

"Because he said he'll only tell you, Frank." Lora Graves showed the first hint that a compassionate person hid under that stereotyped exterior.

"No," Fenton said immediately. "He's not talking to Frank. I'll talk to him."

"You know that won't work, Fenton." Gilroy said. Glancing over to Frank who seemed a little dumbfounded by the turn of events, he asked, "Did you tell him everything we talked about on the plane, Fenton?"

The older Hardy could feel Frank's eyes on him. "No."

"What did you leave out?" Frank asked in surprise.

Turning to face his son instead of the FBI agents, Fenton said, "Norwood had in his notes that the buyer would have taken either of you."

"Yeah, you told me that already."

"What I didn't tell you is that Norwood indicated that the buyer was interested in procuring the other brother at a later date." Fenton watched Frank carefully.

A blank look came over Frank's face as he digested this information. It was one thing to know that it was chance that your brother was taken and you weren't. It was another thing to know that you were probably going to be kidnapped and then sold to suffer the same fate as the brother you couldn't save.

"I'll do it," Frank said. When his father went to protest, Frank said, "You aren't going to argue with me on this, Dad. Every minute counts in this. If Norwood wants to get in a few emotional jabs at me, I can take them. I'm sure it's nothing compared to what Joe went through."

Fenton knew that Frank was right. They didn't have a choice. Once again, Norwood was in control and Fenton still hated it. He nodded at Frank and then told the agents to arrange the meeting. He let them know that he would be monitoring the meeting and if he said to end it, they would end it. The agents agreed and left the Hardys to think about the upcoming meeting.

.**********.

Frank stood outside the room with the two-way glass that they had seen when they first arrived in Burlington, Vermont. He looked at Harold Norwood who was sitting calmly inside the room with his lawyer. Reynolds wanted to be there to make sure that Norwood didn't mess anything up. But that would be hard to do once Norwood gave Frank the information. Clenching and releasing his hands that were at his sides, he took a deep breath. The sooner he went in, the sooner they could search for Joe. Going into the room suddenly terrified him. _What if Harold wants to do more than give me some emotional digs? What if it's more than getting back at the family that finally brought him down? What if he tells me he already knows that Joe is dead?_ Frank's breathing was quickening at the thoughts racing through his mind. Then he felt his father's hand on his back.

"Do you need more time, Frank?" Fenton asked with concern.

After taking a couple of settling breaths, Frank said, "No. It won't get any better for me waiting and I'm sure it won't help Joe any to wait." With that he moved to the door. He was going in empty-handed. The conversation would be recorded and agents would take down all the important information. In fact, there were agents waiting at Norwood's house to find the drive if it was there. Opening the door, he stepped in quickly and moved to take a seat across from Norwood.

"Where's the drive?" Frank asked as he sat down.

"What? No pleasantries? No small talk?" Norwood said with a sneer. "Your brother wasn't much more social."

Frank didn't bother with a response. "The drive?"

"In good time, Frank. The bargain was that I get to talk to you and then give you the drive and the information you'll need to find your brother… or what's left of him." Harold watched the brown-haired teen closely. During the previous surveillance, Frank had been the quieter of the brothers. Not quite as rash or hot-tempered. However, Joe Hardy hadn't turned out to be the easy to antagonize teen that he thought he would be. If Joe could be calm and methodical, could Frank be provoked into anger? Harold was looking forward to trying. After all, he deserved to get back at the family that had brought him down after close two decades of this business.

Shrugging his shoulders, Frank said, "Talk then."

Eying the teen in front of him, Norwood leaned back in his chair. "You know the buyer would have been happy with either of you. It didn't matter which one, he felt you'd both be fighters. I don't know about you, but your brother was. If it wasn't for him practically breaking Jonathan's nose just hours before we left, you'd have never tracked us down."

Frank said nothing. He just looked at the Norwood.

"I wonder if he still has that temper and fight in him now? What's it been? Six weeks?" Norwood leaned forward on the table, his eyes staring into Frank's as his voice dropped. "Do you know why the buyer wanted you or your brother?"

Frank gaze didn't waver. "Your notes said that the buyer was a hunter and looking for someone who could survive on his own. I assume he's hunting my brother like an animal."

Surprisingly, Norwood laughed and sat back in his chair. "You _are_ a cold one." Then after a moment, he continued, "You're right. The buyer is a big game hunter who said wild beasts were no longer a challenge. He's been hunting people now for a couple of years. Sometimes he just takes them off the street, but they're not a challenge. He must have seen something in the news about you boys that sparked his interest. Thinking you might be more of a challenge, he put in his request." Joe's brother didn't move or say a word. "Well, let me tell you where the drive is. The base of the lamp in the guest room unscrews from the lamp. After you unscrew it, pull out a plastic insert from the lamp. The drive is in the insert." He saw Frank relax a little. "Now as for the buyers for the May job…." Norwood went to tell the names and locations of the buyers for the other teens taken around the same time as Joe. "And your brother's buyer is Dominic Laird. He currently lives in the eastern part of North Carolina. Not sure exactly where, didn't care as long as he paid."

Frank stood and walked past Norwood to leave. He was surprised that Norwood hadn't been more cutting.

"Oh, there's one more thing, Frank."

This is a mistake, Frank thought as he stopped and turned to look at Norwood with his hand on the doorknob.

"Laird contacted me just last week asking me to find him another boy or girl. I guess Joe wasn't as good at survival as Laird thought he would be."

Frank had no recollection of letting go of the knob and lunging for Norwood. When conscious thought returned to his mind it was accompanied by the hands of agents and the shouts of his father to let go. Realizing that he was literally choking Norwood with his bare hands, he let go. The agents pulled him back.

Even though Frank had attacked him and he was coughing, Norwood smiled at Frank as he was pulled from the room.

Gilroy ran an agitated hand through his hair. "He could charge you with assault you know."

"We all know he won't though. Everything is on video and no one would fault Frank's reaction," Graves said to everyone gathered in the hall. "In fact, I told Reynolds beforehand that if his client goaded Frank that we would make sure no charges were brought."

Frank leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. He could feel his father's commanding presence beside him. Norwood wanted him to think that Joe was dead. Was he? Did Laird really contact Norwood and ask for another teenager to hunt? After a minute, he heard his father talking to Gilroy and that caught his attention.

"How soon will you be going to North Carolina?" Fenton was asking.

"As soon as we can get flights into the airport closest to wherever Laird lives."

"We're coming with you," Fenton said.

Gilroy nodded, "I expected you to."

With that the hallway cleared out except for one agent who would escort Norwood back to his cell. Fenton and Frank turned one last time to look at Norwood in the conference room and then they walked away. Now they could really start looking for Joe.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Frank  & Joe chapter. (but not together) Also, I do not know of real FBI tactics. I can be totally off with it, but it works for my Alternate Universe of HB.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two**

Six hours later, agents Gilroy and Stevenson along with the two Hardys were getting into a large FBI issued SUV. The two agents sat up front with Fenton and Frank in the back. The pair listened intently to the conversation in front of them as the agents were coordinating with other FBI agents who were near the location of Laird's eastern NC estate. No vehicles had come in or out of the gated estate and a fly-over by a local helicopter pilot had shown no movement at the house. Police in the local area indicated that there hadn't been any problems with Mr. or Mrs. Laird and that they tended to keep to themselves. They were rarely seen in the small town and their staff usually came into town just to get groceries and needed household items.

An FBI station was set up near the entrance to the front gate but it was out of sight of the security cameras. Fenton and Frank were in the station watching the footage from the agents' helmet cams. The agents tried to get into the compound by simply pressing the call button at the front gate, but no one answered. So either the Lairds were ignoring visitors or they were no longer in residence. With the direct route not working, other agents made their way over the fencing and razor wire. The group was making their way through the forest near the driveway when an agent went down… his leg caught in a trap. Not knowing what other traps may be laid in the forest approach, it was decided to simply over-ride the security on the gate and come through to the house at full speed.

The two Hardy men watched it all unfold as the agents entered the house and searched it to find it empty. They had to wait two hours for the agents to fully check everything and to cordon off areas where they needed to maintain evidence security. The Hardys would not be allowed to assist in any evidence gathering, but Agent Gilroy was assigned to take them through the house to see if they spotted anything.

As Frank and Fenton walked through the grand house, they were amazed at its beauty and the thought that Joe had been here.

Agent Gilroy led them up the staircase with purpose. He stopped in front of a door that was in a back hall. The Hardys figured it was the servants' area. Gilroy gestured them to the door. "Don't go in. We're still collecting evidence."

As Frank looked inside he wondered what evidence there was to collect as the room had very sparse furnishing. And then he glanced at the window. It had bars on it. Turning to Gilroy he asked, "You think it's Joe's room?"

Gilroy nodded and said, "There was blonde hair in the shower drain and this door locks from the outside."

Frank was puzzled, the room didn't look bad. What kind of game were the Lairds playing with Joe?

"There's something else you need to see," Gilroy's voice was low. Frank didn't like the tone; he felt that bad news had to be following the statement. Gilroy led them to some back stairs and out a side door that passed a lone post in the side yard. Frank and Fenton stared at the post with some concern but Gilroy kept them moving past it to the edge of the yard where the land began a slow, gentle decent to the swampy terrain below.

Frank swatted away a few mosquitoes that had ventured forth from the trees or up from the grass to buzz around his ears. His hand stopped in mid-air and his feet locked into place. He couldn't go a step further as his breathing became increasingly ragged and he felt his father's arm on his back. _NO!_ his mind screamed at him. _NO!_ Turning, he bent over and the meager contents of his stomach fell into the neatly manicured grass. Closing his eyes, he continued to gasp in the humid air. He spit a couple of times and then stood. His eyes were drawn back to what made him sick in the first place.

"You could have told us before we came out," Fenton said with some ire to Gilroy.

Looking from Fenton to Frank and back to Fenton, he said, "Would it have made it easier? Would you have let me take you away without seeing it?"

Fenton looked past the agent to where an FBI forensics team was examining a section of freshly turned up dirt approximately three feet wide and six feet long. "No, I guess things wouldn't have been much different." Fenton looked at Frank who was staring blankly at the area where the team was and then turned back to Gilroy. "How long before you know who's… who's buried there?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Gilroy said, "Once they finish collecting evidence from around the site, they'll start digging. I'd say we'll know in an hour or two." Looking at Frank's pale face, he said, "Let's go back to the house." As they walked he said, "I'd like for the two of you to wait in the surveillance van. We're searching for other property that Laird owns. If he's not here, he may have moved his hunting game to another property." Seeing that the two were hesitating, he said, "I'll let you know what they find as soon as I know myself."

.**********.

True to his word, in less than two hours, Gilroy was at the air-conditioned surveillance van that had been moved into the front driveway. A rueful smile was on his face as he said, "It's not Joe."

Frank felt nauseated yet again and leaned over to collect himself.

Fenton looked at his son and then at Gilroy. "Thank you, Chris."

"We'll find him, Fenton. He must have moved him."

At Fenton's nod, he closed the door to give the two some privacy and a chance to regain their equilibrium. He needed to contact the base of operations and find out what the next move was. Hopefully, they could track Laird and thereby find Joe.

.**********.

Joe's eyes fluttered open. He felt nauseated and turned quickly to lean over the side of the bed. Luckily, there was a trashcan there and he threw up into it immediately. Looking around, he saw that he was still in the motor home but at least for the moment, he wasn't hooked up to any drugs or restrained. He had been very nervous after George had restrained him to a bed in the back of the camper. He had inserted an IV but had not given Joe any of the drugs. George had said he had a remote trigger and he would start the drugs when Joe needed to be quiet. Joe had known better than to promise to be quiet because they both knew that Joe would try to escape or be noticed if it were possible. Joe had begrudgingly put on another adult diaper because not putting one on could lead to worse problems.

Standing took a bit of effort and when he walked, it was slightly unsteady and with a limp as he didn't have a crutch. The door to bathroom had been removed, but he didn't care. After making use of the facilities, he splashed some water on his face and rinsed his mouth. George had said he'd get no food until they reached their destination. It was too dangerous with the anesthesia. Moving to the door of the chamber, he turned the knob. Locked. He knocked. In a few moments the door opened and George was there. Joe was too weak to make an effort at escape and merely looked at George who motioned him back to his bed.

"We've stopped for the night. There's no use in you kicking up a fuss. We're in the middle of nowhere and I will knock you out if you start to cause trouble." He looked Joe in the eye. "Everything about this motor home is reinforced - the doors, the windows, the locks on everything. You're not getting out."

Perhaps it was the drugs or just that he had seen someone murdered recently and knew that could happen to him that caused Joe to whisper, "You could just let me go. You could just drive away and leave me. Go somewhere. I won't mention you; I promise." There was desperation in his voice. Being moved so many times was adding layer upon layer to the mystery of where he went. It was very probable that his family wouldn't be able to find him. It had been at least six weeks now since he first disappeared. It felt like an eternity.

George hardened his features. "You know I can't do that, Joseph." George intentionally used the name that Laird used when speaking to Joe. "We both have a job and that's what we're going to do."

He moved to close the door and heard Joe say from behind him, "You chose this job, George. I didn't." As George closed the door, he thought, _I didn't have much of a choice either, Joe_.

Joe watched the door close. He thought he saw a hesitation with George but then he closed the door. Something was not right about George being with Laird, he needed to figure out what it was. It might be his only chance.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter. Thanks again for all the reviews! I appreciate them!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

The windows of the camper were still dark when George entered the boy's room. The teenager looked especially young and vulnerable as he lay curled up on the small bed in nothing more than a glorified diaper. He hadn't left the boy any clothing other than more of the adult undergarments. The only other thing on him was a small bandage covering the area where Laird had cut him. The boys ribs showed more prominently now than when he had arrived. The Lairds had fed him, but not as much as a boy his age needed. And then there were the hunts where the boy lived on what he could scrounge up for himself. George had to give it to the boy; he was in better shape at this point than any of the other teens had been. The longest that any of the others had lasted was six months and that was due in part to the Lairds going on an extended vacation to South Africa for four weeks. This boy would last at least that long if Laird didn't get his nose out of joint because the boy was good at surviving. George had seen the anger and animosity in Dominic Laird's features when Joe came out of the swamp after the second hunt. He had bought the boy because he said he wanted a challenge. What really wanted was to feel like he was challenged but still come out the winner every time. George had protested when Laird had laid out the third hunt and commanded him to lay the traps. Looking at the boy on the bed, he thought that Joe Hardy was damned if lost and he was damned if he succeeded. It was sad really. The only way the boy was going to escape was through his own death or Laird's.

He wasn't going to underestimate the boy by walking over into his range by the bed. At least not yet. "Joe! Joe! Time to get up!" His voice was loud and harsh to his own ears. He saw Joe's eyes open wearily and soon the boy was pushing himself up so he was sitting. "Go to the bathroom and then lay back down. I need to put the restraints on again." He saw the boy nod and slowly begin to stand. George would give him a few minutes privacy before going back in.

While standing in the narrow hall of the motor home, he thought about how he became a jailer to teenage boys and girls. George's younger daughter, Olivia, was ten years old now. He didn't get to see her or her older sister, Rachel, but a few months out of the year as he didn't bring them to the Lairds' and he was needed by Dominic whenever he had a hunt, which had become more and more frequent. Four years previously, George had been a hired hand on one of Laird's lesser properties. During his employment, Olivia had been diagnosed with leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. George didn't have the funds to cover the procedure even with his insurance. He had gone to Laird and asked to borrow the money. He wished to God now that that was what he had done. Instead, he had made a bargain with the devil. Laird had given him all the money he needed. In return, Laird had told him that in a year he would need his assistance with some illegal activities that might involve murder. George had agreed, thinking that he could find a way out. However, Olivia still needed follow up visits and there was still the possibility that the cancer could come back. In which case, he'd need the money again. He closed his eyes as he heard the toilet flush and saw the shadow of the boy as he limped from the bathroom back to the bed. His daughter was alive… but at what cost? He had lost count of how many kids he had helped to hunt down, but in the night they sometimes haunted his dreams. He had never killed any of them. Laird reserved that privilege, not that George wanted it anyway. But even if he didn't kill them by his own hand, he never did anything to liberate them.

George walked into the room and to the bedside of the boy. Putting the closest arm into a restraint, he tightened it and then did the other. He ended with the restraint that went across Joe's chest making sure he couldn't sit up. He saw Joe's eyes follow him as he inserted the needle and attached the bags of saline and drugs. George checked to make sure the pump was working correctly and that it would dispense the liquid when the remote triggered it. It was working fine. Turning, he left Joe without another word. Closing the door to the room, he went to the driver's seat. He took a sip of his coffee and started the vehicle. In about eight hours he'd be to Laird's property in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. It was time to put the past in a dark corner of his mind and get back to his job – working for the devil.

.**********.

Arriving at Laird's U.P. (Upper Peninsula) lodge, George pulled into the specially build carport. He would hook up the electric to recharge and take care of the sewer disposal as well once everything was settled inside. As he stood to move toward the back of the camper, he saw Laird making his way to the vehicle. George pressed the button to unlock the side door and continued to the back to let Joe out of his restraints. After crossing the Straits of Mackinaw, he had only had to do a mild sedation one time when he made a brief stop to check a tire at a rare convenience store. Everything was fine with the tire and no sounds were heard from the motor home.

Entering the back room, George walked over and removed the IV paraphernalia and started on the restraints. He quietly said, "Laird will be in here in just a moment." As he freed the first arm, he saw Joe close his eyes. The boy hadn't said anything on the checks he made into the room on this second day of the trip. He would say that he was worried, except he didn't need to worry about Laird's 'game' as it was futile as the 'game' always died. Hearing a sound behind him, he straightened and stepped back from Joe. The chest restraint was all that remained. "Afternoon, Mr. Laird."

"Afternoon, George." Laird's eyes flickered to the teen. "Everything go as expected? No problems?"

"None, Mr. Laird. Joseph behaved nicely on the trip, even when he wasn't drugged." George shifted uneasily from one foot to another as Laird looked at Joe's restrained form.

"Excellent. Maybe he understands his place now." A smile slowly formed on his face as he saw the spark light in Joe's eyes. "Ah, yes, the fire is still there, isn't it young Joseph?" He continued to smile as Joe turned his face so that his eyes were looking at the ceiling. "Get him up and out of here, George." As he turned to go down the narrow hall, he said, "Make sure he showers and shaves before coming to eat this evening."

George finished removing the final restraint and gave Joe a pair of shorts. Once Joe had them on, George helped the silent teenager to his feet. Having brought the crutches to the back room, he now handed them to Joe. Letting the boy go first, they headed down the narrow hall to the steps leading down to the ground.

Joe surveyed the landscape he could see through the windshield. _Another forest_ , he thought. _Great, just great_. "Should I go ahead and plan for a complete break this time?"

"What?" George asked, truly perplexed.

Stepping off the bottom steps and swinging his body around using the crutches, he now faced George. He jerked his head to the trees behind him. "Laird knows I prefer the swamp. He knows he can't beat me in the swamp. He booby trapped the forest at the last place so he could win. Is he doing the same here?" Joe couldn't help the anger that coursed through him. Anger at George, anger at Laird, and anger at himself for being unable to escape.

George looked fearfully around the RV and then to the lodge. Thankfully, Laird was already back inside. Pointing a finger in Joe's face he hissed, "Never voice those thoughts again, Joe. If Laird hears you, you'll get worse than you got last time."

Joe's anger flowed out of him and he dropped his head. "I know it. It's just…" Joe's voice trailed off. It was ridiculous to say that it wasn't fair. Such a gross understatement would be ludicrous to even vocalize. However, he didn't need to. George knew. Together they made their way to the house. On the way, Joe noted this house was much smaller. The trees here were different and the air was cooler and much less humid. "Where are we?"

"Can't tell you anything except that we're north."

Snorting, Joe said, "No joke Sherlock." No answers would be coming from George or Laird. Then he heard a bark and George dropped to a squat on the ground with his arms outstretched. The dog ran up to him and licked his face. "Hans?"

"Yes," George said with a smile. He whistled and another dog showed up. "This is Greta."

Joe looked grimly at the dogs. They weren't a surprise but it didn't make anything better. "Let's get this over," Joe said as he moved forward swinging his body rhythmically with the crutches. He heard George coming up behind him and his foreign words that sent the dogs off on patrol. Time to clean up and see if he could get some extra recoup time from Laird before he had to fight for his life again.

.**********.

Supper had been awful with just himself and Dominic at the table. Marilyn had taken her husband up on the shopping idea and would not be arriving at the lodge anytime soon. According to Dominic, the residence wasn't her favorite as it was just too isolated. As it was, Joe wasn't too fond of it either. Being smaller and simpler, it did not have an elevator. His room here was in the basement and so George was standing at the top of the stairs while Joe used the rails on either side to hop his way down. The trip up had been rather exhausting as he was out of shape and he ended up using his hurt leg more than he should. It had just been two weeks since the end of his last hunt where he sustained the injury. A light sheen of sweat covered his brow as he waited at the bottom for George to bring his crutches.

As Joe positioned the crutches under his arms, George asked, "Did he give you any more time?"

Making his way toward his new room, Joe replied in a somewhat bleak tone, "No. We'll start the hunt in five days."

George grabbed his arm and stopped his forward progress. "But that's less time than he promised you."

Joe didn't even look at George as he responded. "You can't be surprised that he lied to me." When no response came from George, he continued, "Laird said that Ramsey was making an educated guess since he couldn't do an MRI to confirm. So he's going to make the assumption that Ramsey was being too cautious." Raising his head so that he looked at George, he added, "He's generously going to let me have one of my crutches and not have it count toward whatever amount of items I will be allowed." Joe snorted at George's pained face. "Don't be all sympathetic on me, George. You and I both know one day I'll end up buried in one of these yards." He saw George's face go blank and continued with venom he could no longer hide in his voice, "You could have helped me. You could still help me, but for whatever reason… you won't. Live with that George when you throw dirt on my body." Joe pushed past George to his room and closed it behind him.

Leaning against the door, anger and emotion whirled in him like a maelstrom. _It's forest and he has the dogs_ , Joe thought. _I'm just starting to put weight on my leg again and it hurts like the devil. How am I supposed to evade him?_ Moving to the bed, he propped the crutches against the wall and then lowered himself to lie on top of the bedspread. It was white with sprigs of little flowers. Incredibly ironic that such a pure and simple thing could be here in his prison.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe chapter.

For the question of why Joe was wearing adult diapers, the answer is that the Upper Peninsula is in Michigan and that is a pretty long drive from NC. Not knowing how traffic would be our how much he would have to sedate Joe, this was the safest route. I thought I had written 'Michigan' in the last chapter but at glance I don't think I did.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four**

Joe had lost track of what day of the week it was. If he asked, Laird said it was inconsequential. George told him that Laird didn't want him knowing what month or what day it was. In addition, he wasn't to be told where he was. It was part of Laird's dominance over his 'game.' Joe had been surprised when Dominic had actually referred to him as game one evening at dinner. Joe had made the mistake of mentioning Laird's previous victims and Laird had corrected him quite angrily. Those he hunted were game, not victims. Each had a chance to survive; they just didn't have the will to. At least that was Dominic Laird's explanation. Now it was the fifth day since his arrival which meant that it was the morning of the hunt.

Just as in the past, a wrapped granola bar was on his plate… with a map. Joe looked from the plate to Laird.

Waving a fork in the air that still had a piece of sausage on it, Laird said airily, "Sit, Joseph. Since you are at a disadvantage, I'm giving you a chance to look at a map before you set out to evade me. The map must be one of your choices if you want to see it now." At Joe's nod of acceptance, Laird motioned again for him to sit. "Sit and look at it. I'll give you ten minutes and then we'll move to the table so you can select your other items.

Joe's eye went hungrily over the map. The property this time seemed to be all forest land, but there were hills and rocks. And this time there were multiple small streams and even a pond or two.

"The driveway is once again off-limits."

Joe didn't even look up at the words.

"And you'll need to wear this." Laird had some kind of thick, heavy bracelet that fastened like a zip tie. Once it was on, it would take a lot to cut it off.

"Another shocking device?" Joe asked, thinking about the last hunt.

"Not this time. This time, this is a GPS tracking device." Laird watched as Joe's eyes became hooded and suspicious. "Don't worry; it won't be used by me. Each night, George will monitor your location to make sure that you are still on the property. The only way I will be told of your location is if you once again manage to slip off my property."

Joe filed this information away. There had to be some kind of weakness or flaw in the perimeter of this estate and that's why he had the bracelet. The device would be a major hindrance if he found a way out. He'd have to come up with a way to remove it.

Standing, Laird moved to a side table. Joe followed folding the map into a small square before putting it into his shirt pocket.

"Evade for seven days. Six items. The map is one." Laird spoke casually as he looked over the items on the table.

Joe looked at the man standing so close to him. Surely George wouldn't keep him locked up if he attacked Laird right now. Sadly, he couldn't count on George and there were at least two other staff on the premises. No, he'd have to wait. Joe looked over the items. His old stand-bys came first.

Water bottle. "Two."

Iodine tablets. "Three."

Tape. "Four."

Knife. "Five."

Flint. "Six." _Who knows_ , Joe thought, _I might need a signal fire_.

Placing one crutch against the wall, Joe pocketed his items and hobbled to the door with Laird. He could put more weight on it than he had shown George and Laird. Until he got into the hidden depths of the forest, he would try to maintain the illusion.

At the door, Laird said, "No time limit to get to the tree line this time. You'll be running soon enough." He said the last sentence with a laugh that Joe ignored.

Moving at an unhurried pace, Joe left the house to enter the unknown territory in front of him. He had to look at every hunt as a chance for freedom, as an opportunity to escape. One of these days Laird would tire of him and there would be no more chances.

Taking as straight a course as he could, he walked north. There were several streams or creeks on the property and he wanted to find where they went. The going wasn't easy and although the crutch helped, his leg wasn't meant to go hiking yet and it kept a dull throb of pain going while sending out an occasional sharp spike of agony. Finding one of the creeks and seeing that it flowed in a northeasterly way, he stepped into the cold water and went in that direction. The words that Laird had spoken a few hours earlier pulsed with the pain of his leg- _seven days_. Could he evade Laird for seven days with his leg in this shape?

"#!*" Joe let out a curse as he miss-stepped with his bad leg and stumbled. He barely kept himself upright. Spotting a large flat rock ahead, he made his way to it and sat down. Submerging his injured leg in the cold stream brought a quick relief to his pained leg as the water quickly started numbing it. Propping the crutch in the water in front of him, he leaned forward and rested against it. Perhaps he would need to make these stops to help his leg.

After a few minutes of resting, he lifted his head and studied his surroundings again. Nothing unusual here that he hadn't already seen in the past couple of hours. He knew that he had been brought quite a ways north due to the length of the ride, the temperature and the vegetation. But where? It was somewhere where he could have a large property, so once again not close to a major city. He hadn't seen any unusual animal life, so he would just be guessing. Perhaps upstate New York, Vermont, or Maine. It wouldn't help him any, so he let that thought drop and went back to the map. Pulling it from his pocket, he determined the stream he was in and saw that it made a northerly turn to where it exited from the property. Another stream would join with this one in about a mile. Then it looked to be about another mile where the stream would exit the property.

Deciding his leg was as numb as he could stand it and still walk, he carefully stood and placed a small amount of weight on it. The leg sent him a message of pain, but it was dulled. Joe dreaded the night when the pain would come to him full-force. Beginning to move forward again, he decided to exit the stream and walk for a ways along the bank to gain more stable footing. He would also need to stop soon and look for food. He had seen some small fish in the water, so there would be that option. Grubs and fish. Not the most pleasant of diets, but he had lived on it before and he could do it again.

About thirty minutes later he had to stop and numb his leg again. The pain had gotten pretty bad. He doubted he would be able to make it to the edge of the property on this day. As he sat once again on a rock with his leg in the water, he sharpened a long, straight stick. _Time to make a fishing spear_ , Joe thought. There was a two foot deep pool of water near his resting rock where he could see the fish. In fact, some of them swam over and around his leg as it lay in the water. _Almost too easy_ , Joe whispered to himself as he speared a fish. _Almost._ He lifted the dripping, still wiggling fish from the water and smiled for the first time in days.

After eating the raw fish, Joe walked another thirty minutes but didn't cover much distance. It was at this point that he decided he needed to find a place for the night and then survey his immediate area. Leaving the stream he found a rocky outcropping in a low area that had flood debris around it. Kind of dangerous to sleep in a flood-prone area, but then, the debris made a perfect cover for the space under the outcrop. It was a place that he could squeeze into and sleep in a prone position. With just the addition of a few dead branches, he could cover the entrance and sleep with little fear of animals… well, except for bears. But climbing a tree wasn't the best option for him right now on a crutch. Deciding this would be his home for the night, he located a couple of branches and placed them nearby and then began to scout the area.

Locating a small rise about fifty yards away from his shelter, he stood atop it and looked around. There wasn't a lot of brush but the trees were fairly thick. A mixture of evergreen and deciduous, they carpeted the ground with leaves and needles. The sunlight that filtered through the canopy only reached the ground in a patchwork quilt fashion with no large patches of sun. The lack of sunlight added to the already cool air. It was mid-afternoon and it was probably no warmer than 70 degrees. The evening would be cool and probably unpleasant for him with his wet clothing. There was nothing to be done about it for the moment. A fire was out of the question for tonight.

As the sun set, Joe sat on the rocky rise eating some soft bark and grubs that he found. They weren't plentiful here, so he'd have to fish more tomorrow to keep up his strength. As he stood to make his way to the shelter, he heard the sound of dogs barking. The distance was far away and eventually the sounded faded into the night. His second smile of the day emerged as he realized that Laird must have turned west at the stream. A break on his part… He'd say an extra prayer tonight. He said one every night because he felt God was the only one with him right now. And as far as he knew, today was Sunday. Yes, there'd be an extra prayer of thanks and one for assistance and strength as well. For Joe knew quite well that it would take a miracle to get him free of Dominic Laird.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Joe and Frank chapter. Almost together... Thanks again for all the reviews. I really do read them. :-)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five**

Dominic Laird had been very disgruntled as he settled into bed that evening. His first day on the hunt and the trail had been lost immediately when they came upon the stream. Perhaps he needed to invest in some blood hounds as Hans and Greta didn't seem to be able to find the Hardy boy very well. Dominic conveniently forgot that the dogs had found him when he had be confined to high land at the other estate and that they had found other subjects he had hunted. No, he didn't like to think that Joe was _that_ smart and capable. He had been further irritated when he got George to confirm through GPS that the boy _was_ still in the boundaries of the estate.

So it was with irritation still in the forefront of his mind that he answered the phone when it rang at 5:47 a.m. "What is it?" he barked into the phone disregarding a civil greeting. The sleep disappeared from his eyes and he sat straight up in the bed. "How long?" A moment's pause then, "Make the necessary transfer and ready the passports." Laird then hung up without saying anything else. Throwing off the covers and swinging his legs from the bed, he grabbed his cell phone and sent a message to George.

Moments later, a sleepy George was standing in the doorway as Laird was pulling on a pair of pants. "What is it, Mr. Laird? Is everything all right?"

"Damn it! It is not all right!" Laird's voice then changed to a mutter as the last vestiges of George's sleep dropped away. "It's all because of that boy!"

"Mr. Laird?"

Rounding on George, Laird seemed to gather himself. "I've had a call from someone who watches over my estates and accounts. They keep an eye out for anyone doing any… investigating or probing."

"And there's been some? Probing I mean?" George asked with concern.

"More than probing, George. The FBI is at the North Carolina estate. They're tracking my expenses and locating other properties."

George's face paled. "What are we going to do?"

"My man is gathering my assets and getting the fake IDs and passports I have for all the staff. We'll be going out of the country for the time being. In different directions."

Nodding his acceptance, George said, "I'll lay low."

"Indeed," Laird said. In fact, he planned to kill George before leaving the estate. With George and the other staff dead, he would have less worries about being tracked through their information. "But first we have a loose end to tie up."

"The boy," George said softly.

Laird nodded. "Be ready in fifteen minutes. Bring the tablet and the dogs so we can track him. We'll take the ATVs as far as we can." Dominic then went back to getting ready, trusting George to do as he was told.

It was with a heavy heart that George went to get ready; he knew exactly how Laird would tie up the loose end that was Joe Hardy. The boy had been right. He should have helped him before… but maybe he still could.

.**********.

Joe awoke to aches and pains that came from sleeping on the cold hard ground. It was surprising he slept at all with the pain in his leg. Finding it impossible to stretch in his cramped space, he pushed the protective branches away and drug himself from the alcove. Stiffness made moving difficult and it took a couple of minutes before he could haul himself up to an upright position using his crutch. Gritting his teeth, he moved to a nearby rock where he sat and ate the granola bar he had saved from yesterday and some water from his canteen.

Looking up through the canopy, he could barely see the color change indicating dawn. It was time to start moving if he wanted to see where this stream ended on the property. Joe assumed that the fencing would be similar to that of the southern location, but perhaps not. Maybe this would be something he could work with. Pulling on his still damp socks and shoes, he began his trek to find the end of the stream.

According to the map, it would be about two miles to the boundary. It amazed Joe that Laird owned such vast amounts of property. Normally he could have covered this ground at a brisk walk in about thirty minutes. It took him close to an hour over the uneven terrain with his crutch and injured leg. He had to stop a couple of times to rest his leg in the stream and he grimaced over having to do it. He shook his head at himself, imagining what penalty he would suffer this time. There was little doubt in his mind that he would be caught before the seven days concluded. Of course he would try to evade, but Laird hadn't given him much of a chance with the terrain and his bum leg.

As he sat on a rock in the edge of the stream, he noticed that the breeze had picked up. Standing up and leaning on his crutch, he looked in the direction of the stream and thought he saw more sky than he had been seeing. Curiosity and a touch of hope welled up inside him as he started moving once again with the stream. The breeze grew stronger and he heard sounds that were familiar… water crashing on a beach. In less than fifteen minutes he was standing on a pebble and rock beach littered with driftwood and large boulders. The dark blue water with frothy tops crashed upon the shore in a rhythmic pattern. The water stretched out before him as far as his eye could see until it met the cloudless blue of the open sky at the horizon.

Dropping his crutch, Joe sank to his knees. It was one of the Great Lakes… _Which one_? he asked himself. Then he realized it didn't matter, he just needed to keep walking along the beach in one direction or the other. There could be no fence that would keep him in this time. Even if it went into the water, he could swim around it. Staggering to his feet and turning to the east, he moved at a fast clip. The beach was fairly even and uniform due to the erosion of the crashing waves upon the beach and he could make good time. Joe's mind was going at a feverish pace. This was why he was wearing the bracelet. They knew they had to be able to track him if he made it out to the beach.

He stopped and looked at the bracelet. He had to get it off. Joe's eyes searched the beach and came to rest on a boulder up ahead. Hurrying with his crutch to the boulder, he gently placed the crutch against the rock and pulled out the knife. The knife sawed through part of the bracelet but not the wire that went through its center. Joe then carefully tried to cut through the closure but he had to be careful or he'd slit his own wrist. After several minutes of frustration and nicking his arm, he gave up. Putting away the knife, he bent down and picked up a baseball-sized rock. Placing his wrist against the boulder, he slid the bracelet as high on his arm as he could and then brought the rock down with as much force as he could on the thickest part of the bracelet. Joe let out an involuntary cry of pain and let the wash of white heat pass over him as he worked to control his rapid breathing. The bracelet had been cracked open where he hit it and some circuitry was exposed. Gritting his teeth, he brought the rock down on the bracelet one more time. This time he was able to hold in his cry of pain. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the circuitry now appeared mangled and more was exposed. Joe stepped unsteadily away from the rock and went to the water and let the incoming wave wash up and over his hand and the bracelet. The coldness of the water was startling and felt good to his wrist and his leg that was also in the water.

He moved quickly back to get his crutch and continue to the east along the beach. The rocks and the coldness of the water made him wonder if he was somewhere along Lake Superior. If he was, then he could have a very long walk to find civilization. But he wouldn't be discouraged yet. He had a chance - the best chance since he went under that flood gate. And he was going to take it.

.**********.

Laird stopped his ATV and let out a string of curses.

George pulled up beside him and asked, "What's wrong?"

Laird looked at the tablet one more time. "The signal's gone. He's found a way to disable it." A few more curses flew from Laird's lips.

Earlier, George had hoped to mislead Laird while they were tracking Joe, but Laird had insisted on taking the tablet himself. George thought about knocking Laird out and just leaving the area with him, but he had been afraid to do it. He needed to stay on Laird's good side in case he needed more money for Olivia's treatment. Now, with the signal disabled, he let out a deep sigh of relief. They'd turn around now and leave. It was the best situation he could hope for. Joe would be found and he and Laird would make their way out of the country. Laird's next words burst George's bubble of contentment.

"I know he's on the beach and he was headed east. He'll stay on the beach because he thinks he can escape," Laird said angrily. The boy was smart and if they weren't tracking him, he probably would have escaped. "Let's go. We don't have time to waste. The sooner we get rid of Joseph, the sooner we can leave." With that, Laird put his ATV in motion and passed George.

Whistling to the dogs, George followed his boss along the path to the lake.

.*********.

The FBI team went into the nicely appointed lodge house in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. It was a property of Dominic Laird under a different name. It had taken them some time to find it, but now they were here. The team apprehended two of Laird's staff who were obviously packing up to leave. They claimed to not know where Dominic Laird, George Rand, and Joe Hardy were. For the moment, they were still in fear of their employer and refusing to say anything.

Fenton and Frank were just brought up to the house when an agent called out that it appeared that some vehicles, perhaps ATVs were missing. It was at that time that the staff in the house finally understood that it was in their best interest to cooperate and assist the FBI before something happened to Joe Hardy.

The FBI brought in several ATVs and off-road bikes. Agents Gilroy and Stevenson each had one and told Fenton and Frank that they would call them when they had apprehended the subjects.

Fenton went to object when Frank gently took his arm and shook his head no. This caught Fenton's attention because he knew that Frank wanted to be there when they found Joe as much as he did. He remained quiet as the team headed out down a nearby path while other agents continued to look for clues on the grounds.

Frank nodded his head to the side where a small motor home was stored under a shelter. Also under the shelter was an ATV. The two moved over to the ATV and Frank said, "Looks like this is where Laird and Rand took their ATVs from." There was space for at least two other vehicles. "Glad they left us one." Frank turned to watch the agents as they moved about while Fenton went to work hot-wiring the vehicle. In moments it was running and Frank hopped on in the driver's seat. Fenton didn't complain but held on to his son as they took off down the path with calls from the FBI to stop. There was no stopping them and the FBI didn't have the vehicles to come after them… they were all in front of them.

.*********.

The sounds of ATVs came echoing to Joe from the beach in front of him. He moved as fast as he could into the trees at the edge of the beach. Unfortunately, the beach was rather wide due to the powerful forces of the lake. He knew they had spotted him and they must know about the bracelet. That had to be why they had come on the ATVs. Moving at a speed he couldn't maintain, Joe fell as he neared the tree line. Leaving his crutch, he struggled to his feet and began hobbling as quickly as he could toward the uncertainty of the trees. A shot cracked the air and Joe heard Laird's voice from behind him.

"Stop there, Joseph or the next one will be in your back."

Somehow the man's voice carried over the crashing waves. But then Joe turned and saw how close that Laird and George were with the dogs running up to them on the beach.

Laird walked so that he was ten yards from Joe and stopped. George and dogs were moving up behind him. Dominic smiled at Joe and said, "I'm sorry but we're going to have to end the hunt early. It seems that we've been found." His smile changed to an angry grimace. "I can only assume it is from something you managed to get to them before I got you. Either that or your family."

Joe's heart raced… _my family_. Have _they really found me? Am I going to die now before they can save me?_

Laird pulled another pistol from a side holster and checked the safety. He then tossed it to just a yard or two in front of Joe. "Go ahead, Joseph. Pick it up."

Joe looked at the gun and then back to Laird and shook his head no.

Laird raised the gun and pointed it at Joe. "Pick it up or I'll shoot you where you stand."

Joe could see that Laird meant it. Carefully, he edged painfully forward and bent to pick up the gun and step back.

"Take the safety off, Joseph."

"Why?"

Smiling again, Laird lowered the gun. "Because on the count of three, we're going to fire at each other. Just like in the duels of old."

"No. I won't." Joe said.

"Then you'll die."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Joe drew a deep breath and then opened them. Clicking the safety off, he faced Laird.

"Thank you, Joseph. Now on the count of three, we raise the guns and fire. Can you do it, Joseph? Can you kill a man in cold blood? If you can, George will let you walk out of here. If not, then you'll die by my hand." Laird didn't wait for a response but began his count.

"One. Two. Three."

Joe raise his pistol in both hands at the same time as Laird. Pointing it at Laird, he fired…

There was a click. Laird laughed mercilessly as Joe dropped the empty weapon from his hands. "I do believe you aimed to kill. Even though I know your family detests the use of guns, I can see that you have been trained to use them." He cocked his head to the side as he raised his own pistol. "It's a shame that one wasn't loaded. I can promise you this one is." With those final words, Laird lined up his target.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** Everybody together chapter! And wow! That cliffhanger really got the reviews going! Thank you so much! So,yes, I decided to post early as so many of you requested. And yes, I did like having Fenton hot-wire the vehicle. I thought it would add to his cool factor. ;-) Hope you all enjoy the chapter! Three more to go after this one!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six**

Joe Hardy stood in shock in front of Dominic Laird. He had fired his gun and it was empty. He had let it drop from his nerveless fingers to the rock-strewn shoreline. Now he faced Laird as the man took aim to end his life.

As Laird lined up the shot, he heard the sound of a dog running. He discounted it as it was one of his dogs. Then as he pulled the trigger, he was hit from behind. Hans pinned him to the ground. Shouts in a foreign language sounded from the beach as George ran up to stand behind Laird. Laird called out his own commands in the foreign tongue that the dogs knew, but Hans remained in place and Greta didn't come. Unbeknownst to Laird, George had done additional training with the dogs with commands that he alone knew and that Laird couldn't override.

Joe stared blankly at Laird as he lay on the ground. Laird was cussing and yelling at George while trying to rise. George however, ignored him as Hans kept him pinned.

Instead of doing anything to help Laird, George looked to the shell-shocked boy in front of him."You should probably sit down, Joe. It's all over. The FBI will be here soon." George's voice held compassion as he said, "You're going home, Joe."

Joe didn't sit but remained standing and stared at the gun that he had dropped to the man on the ground. Joe's eyes were vacant. _Home?_ his brain thought in an abstract fashion. _I almost killed a man._ The gun was still on the ground just a foot or so away from him. His eyes traveled over to where Hans had Laird pinned to the ground. He was still shouting obscenities at them both. _He would have shot me. He would have killed me._ _How can I be going home?_ Joe's thoughts were jumbled but they all dealt with home, the gun, and death.

Sounds of ATVs came from the beach again but Joe's thoughts remained on what just happened. He disjointedly realized that this time the ATVs were the FBI. Soon the three that had been involved in the hunt were surrounded. Laird and George were cuffed and moved to separate locations on the beach until transportation could be arranged. The dogs were muzzled and put on leashes.

Joe was helped to a rock where he sat in silence staring blankly at the spot where the gun had been. It had been picked up by a gloved FBI agent, tagged, and bagged. Joe knew someone was talking to him but he didn't know what they were saying. But then he heard a voice, actually two voices, he knew and he turned his head.

"I don't think you can keep me from my son!" Fenton shouted at an agent who was trying to block their way to Joe.

Agent Gilroy saw that the Hardys had managed to get here before they were called. He wasn't surprised and he couldn't blame them. "Let them through Agent Lowery!" he called out.

Instantly, Lowery stepped to the side. Frank and Fenton raced up the beach to kneel by Joe who still hadn't spoken. Fenton's eyes frantically searched Joe's body for injuries and found that his left wrist seemed to be the only injury he could see. He was relieved that there weren't more visible ones. But then as Frank pulled Joe into an embrace, Fenton became fearful of the injuries he couldn't see. Joe was practically emotionless. What had happened on the beach? Seeing that Frank was doing his best to get Joe to talk, Fenton stood and went to Agent Gilroy. "What happened out here?"

"We're just finding out. Laird is like a clam, but Rand seems willing to talk." Gilroy didn't have to ask if Fenton wanted to hear what Rand said. "You can listen, but you are not to interfere. Do you understand?" Fenton nodded and stepped forward when Gilroy put a hand to his chest to stop him. "Do you understand?"

This time Fenton responded verbally, "Yes, I understand." Now he understood how Joe felt when he repeated things to him. He'd try to remember this feeling for the future and use it to temper how he treated both his boys.

"Good, let's go." Turning around, Gilroy led the way to where Rand sat.

"Will you talk to us?" Gilroy asked. The man had been read his rights and could refuse.

"I'd like to talk to my lawyer, but I'm willing to answer some things. What do you want to know?" George asked. He wanted to make a deal by testifying against Laird, but he also wanted to do something that would help Joe. He had done so little after all.

"What happened on the beach?"

George thought for a moment. Joe would be able to tell them all this. He looked over and saw that Joe was being held by his brother. For a boy that wanted so much to escape, he seemed rather unexcited to be free. Frowning, he asked, "Why hasn't Joe told you?"

Fenton was angry at the casual way this man referenced his son. "Because he's in shock you sorry son of-" Gilroy's restraining hand kept him from moving forward toward Rand.

"I thought you understood," Gilroy said calmly. "Another outburst and you'll be sidelined." He didn't even wait for a response.

"I believe Mr. Hardy is correct in his assessment. Joe will tell his side when he's ready. What can you tell us?"

Knowing that Joe would be able to give them the same information, he told them what happened.

Fenton stood in shock for a number of reasons. He was shocked at the fact that this man had participated in the hunts on his son. He was further surprised that he had in fact helped Joe at the end. And he now realized that Joe was in shock because he was prepared to kill a man. The only reason he hadn't was because the gun wasn't loaded. Fenton's eyes left the figure of George Rand and moved to Dominic Laird who was still as closed-mouthed as a clam. Taking a step in that direction, he was halted again by Gilroy.

"There's nothing but trouble for you over there." Gilroy's head jerked in Laird's direction. "Joe needs you with him, not attacking that worthless piece of crap." Seeing that he hadn't convinced Joe's father that murder wouldn't help his son, he said, "If Joe had killed him, it would have been self-defense. If you kill him, it will be second-degree murder. Let's not go that route."

Fenton glared for a few more seconds in Laird's direction and then his shoulders slumped. "You're right."

Putting his arm around Fenton, Gilroy led him back to his sons.

Frank looked up with worry when Fenton returned. "He hasn't said a word, Dad."

Fenton kneeled in front of Joe. "Look at me son." He waited what seemed like an eternity before Joe's blue eyes raised to meet his hazel ones. "I know what happened. I would have done the same. You have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty for." Joe's eyes held his. _Was he reaching his son?_ "Do you understand me? We love you. I love you. Nothing you did changes that. You survived and you did nothing wrong. Do you understand?" Seconds ticked by before Joe spoke.

"I would have killed him." Joe's eyes searched his father's for reproach. His father disliked using guns on the majority of his cases, using them only on cases where he felt there was the chance of great harm if he didn't have one. As far as he knew, Fenton Hardy had only fired a gun in self-defense. Even though he didn't advocate for guns, they were necessary in their line of work. Therefore, he had his sons trained in how to use them and care for them. Knowledge was power, he taught them.

Frank watched the exchange with interest. Not knowing what his father knew, he had to piece things together as they went. He looked to his father to see if he would respond.

Fenton nodded at Joe. "If I had come on the beach and found him pointing a gun at you, I would have shot him myself."

"Would you have shot to kill?" Joe asked in a monotone voice.

"If I thought that was the only way to save you I would have shot to kill with no hesitation." Fenton didn't let his gaze waiver. Joe had to know that Fenton meant every word.

Joe's voice was soft when he responded. "It would have been the only way."

Fenton pulled Joe into a tight embrace and whispered raggedly, "I'm so glad to have you back, Joe. So glad to have you back." In a moment, he felt Joe's body heave with ragged breaths.

As Joe pulled back, Fenton could see that he had cried. It was a good thing. It was something that Laura Hardy would do a lot of when she saw her son again. It would be an emotional time for all of them. Obviously, Joe would need to see a counselor or therapist to talk about the event and the family would probably need some as well. Their journey to recovery was just beginning. But considering that the other option would be grief counseling because Joe was dead… well, this alternative was much preferred.

.**********.

It wasn't long before Agent Gilroy came over to inform them that a helicopter would be landing on the beach to take the Hardys to a hospital for Joe to be examed.

Joe looked at his father and brother, almost unable to believe the reality that both were here with him. The sounds of the helicopter could soon be heard and it brought a sense of relief to Joe. While he was glad to be out of Laird's clutches, he wasn't quite sure how to go about telling his father and Frank what happened to him. In addition, his leg and wrists were throbbing painfully making his thought process even more difficult. Glancing from his father to his brother, Joe said, "I don't think I can talk about it right this minute."

Frank nodded while Fenton said, "Not a problem son. Let's get you patched up and then you can tell us what happened."

Closing his eyes and laying back on the ground, Joe said, "Thanks, Dad." Normal life. It had been weeks since he had had that. Would it be easy to just jump back into the routine he was used to or would it all seem foreign to him? Iola. Family. Home. School. Football. Yes, football. Maybe he'd focus on that a little... The sounds of the chopper grew louder as Joe worked to order his thoughts.

* * *

 **More Author's Notes:** Perhaps a little anti-climatic after that cliffhanger, but I think it works here. The next chapter is quite a bit longer as Joe works to adjust to his freedom.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** I don't know what to say now that everyone is back together.

Poor Frank didn't have a lot to do in the last chapter. Even though he and Joe are super close, I HAD to let Fenton be the lead. While I love Joe and Frank's close relationship, I like stories where Fenton is a strong dad. I try to make him so in this story.

Thanks everyone for the reviews!

And Sam- ;-D

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven**

The FBI took the Hardys to a hospital in the largest nearby city via helicopter. Joe was to be checked out and cleared before they all flew to Detroit where a thorough debriefing would be held over several days.

Fenton and Frank had wanted to stay with Joe during his exam by the doctor, but Gilroy had quietly suggested to them that Joe might be more forthcoming with the doctor if he didn't have to worry about their reactions. Fenton walked over to where Joe sat on the edge of a hospital bed. "Are you okay with being examined by the doctor in private? Frank or I could be with you if you need us." Watching his son closely, Fenton saw the relief come over him when he suggested the private exam. While he hated leaving Joe alone so soon after they had found him, he wanted Joe to be honest with the doctor and if he and Frank were an impediment to that, then they would leave.

"I'll be fine with just the doctor." A small, reassuring smile was on his face. "I'll be okay."

Fenton nodded and stepped back. Joe said he'd be okay, but he wondered what information the doctor would share with him later. There was something Joe didn't want them to know yet, or didn't want them to see. That worried Fenton.

Joe watched his brother walk up to the bed. His eyes looked more closely at his brother now that the initial shock of the confrontation on the beach and the rescue had worn off. There were dark circles under Frank's eyes and he looked a little thinner. "How are you doing?"

A big smile came over Frank's face. "Seriously? You're asking me if I'm okay?"

Joe returned the smile and said, "Yes I am. I know how you are." His voice faltered and he looked down. "And I know how I'd be if you were gone for over six weeks." His blue eyes came back up to meet Frank's brown ones. His voice was serious. "How are you really?" From the corner of his eye, Joe saw his father step away to give them some privacy.

Honesty seemed the best way to go for Frank. He wanted Joe to be honest with him about his feelings, so he had to reciprocate if he hoped for Joe to open up. "I haven't eaten the way I should. I haven't slept well since you've been gone and I got in a fight and suspended from school." Frank's face colored up at this last admission.

As Joe's eyes widened, he asked in disbelief, "You? You were in a fight and got suspended?"

Frank shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Yeah. Mom and dad said I needed to go back to school, so I went. Most everyone was sympathetic." He shook his head. "Almost too sympathetic." His eyes found Joe's again. "But there were a few who were complete jerks." Shoulders shrugging, he continued, "Hal said a little too much and that was it."

"You didn't go all Kung Fu on him, did you?" Joe knew how deadly his brother could be if he chose to be.

Worry was in Joe's voice and Frank found it heartening to see this aspect of his brother's personality already coming back. The two brothers were fiercely protective of each other and it showed easily to others. Smiling for real, Frank answered, "No, I didn't. I went all Joe Hardy on him."

Joe's large bright smile was back on his face. "Well, that means you must have won because Hal could never take Joe Hardy in fight."

"I think I would have done you proud."

Joe laughed and then he sobered as he asked, "How's Iola?"

The fact that it had taken Joe this long to ask about Iola showed Frank just how out of it his brother had been at the scene and on the way to the hospital. "She did just what you told her. She called for dad, she told us about the stops and the road, and she told us about Denton's Grill."

Joe smiled. "She didn't believe me about the Grill at first."

"Well, it was one of the first things out of her mouth when we saw her."

"Did they hurt her?" Joe asked worriedly.

Shaking his head, Frank responded, "No. She just was a little dehydrated and exhausted. There weren't any injuries." Frank paused for a moment. "She's been worried sick about you."

Joe's head dropped.

Not wanting his brother to feel guilty, he said, "We all have been. Things just weren't the same without you." Another pause. "There wasn't anything you could do so don't take a guilt trip on our behalf. We're just happy to have you back."

Joe's head lifted slowly until his eyes met Frank's. "I'm glad to be back." His voice softened to a whisper. "There were times I wondered if I would ever see any of you again."

Before Frank could respond to that telling bit of information, a doctor walked in.

"My name is Dr. Myles and I'll be examining Mr. Hardy."

The agents and the Hardys left the room. Joe smiled at his father as he left and said, "I'll be fine, Dad."

When everyone left, Joe looked at the doctor with a slight suspicion. His dealings with one unscrupulous doctor didn't mean this one was. The doctor turned his back and asked for Joe to take off his clothes except for his underwear.

Dr. Mike Myles had caught the fleeting look of distrust on the young teen's face. Getting a brief overview from the FBI, he wondered if Joe Hardy had dealings with a doctor during his confinement. When Dr. Myles asked Joe about his food during his capture, he had been shocked. He turned to face the young man who sat on the edge of the bed. Myles was already shocked at him eating grubs and raw fish, but when he saw the still red scar on the boy's ribs, he had to school his features to not show anger.

Putting the tablet he was recording notes on down, he asked Joe to lie back on the bed and began to examine him. He was angered at the how the cut had come to be on the boy's side. He was outraged that a member of his profession had known the cause, sewn him up, and left him to the madman's mercy. However, the doctor had done a good job. The wound would heal with a small scar and there was no infection. Joe's wrist was just badly bruised. Anti-inflammatory medicines and pain relievers would work well on that as it wasn't his dominate arm. When Myles moved to Joe's lower body, Joe told him of the possible bone bruise. Myles concurred that there wasn't a break and that they would run an MRI to confirm the bruise.

Myles looked thoughtfully at the young man as he lay on the pristine white bed. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how bad was the pain when you were running?"

Joe thought for a moment and responded, "Going slow with the crutch was about a five. When I had to go faster over the uneven ground it would shoot up to a 7."

The doctor nodded. It sounded correct for that type of injury. "Now that you're with your family, I'm going to suggest that you stay off that leg completely for a week. Use crutches or a wheelchair. Use over the over the counter pain medicine to take the edge off when you start putting some weight on it. I'd use crutches in some form or fashion for a couple of weeks after you rest it for a week. Let your body be your guide in whether you need them or not." He tapped Joe's leg to get his attention. "If it is a constant five or higher, rest it. The occasional spike to a five won't be unusual. This is a injury that can be painful for weeks and into months." With Joe's eyes still on him, he added, "Don't try to act like it's all better just to make your family feel better." He saw Joe's eyes drop back down.

"I won't."

Patting Joe's leg again, he said, "Okay, sit up so I can look at your back. I don't think I'll need you to stand unless there's something else-" Myles voice stopped as he moved around the bed to look at Joe's back. He had noticed that the boy was slow to comply with his request and thought it was just because he was sore and tired. "What did this, Joe?" His eyes looked at the faint red lines crossing the teen's back. There were three places were lines of crusty scabs formed a dotted pattern across his back.

"Ten lashes with a belt," Joe's voice was monotone. And then as if he needed to say more now that he had said that, he rushed on, "He made the hunt so I couldn't escape him. He caught me with the animal trap and then he chained me to a pole and whipped me with the belt. He used a belt instead of a whip because he said he didn't want me to bleed too much as I had to have the rest of my penalty."

Myles looked at the wounds, they were healing and soon the scabs would be gone. For the most part the scars on his back would fade and amount to nothing. The three scabbed areas would leave a faint trail as a reminder. Focusing back on Joe's words, he inquired, "The rest of your penalty?"

The monotone voice returned, "The cut on my side. He said that every time I failed to evade him, I would get another one."

How he wished that he could do more for Joe. He would definitely recommend therapy and he was sure this family would follow through. But for now, he would just treat Joe's physical injuries the best he could. "Joe, I'm going to send you for an MRI on your legs to make sure that my diagnosis is correct. If the results come back as I suspect, there won't be any changes to my recommendations."

"Okay."

The doctor paused. "There's one more thing, Joe." This was always difficult and it never got easier. He waited for Joe to focus on him. "Do we need to do an examination for sexual abuse?" He saw the boy's eyes open wide and then return to normal.

"No. They never touched me that way." Joe's eyes fell before the doctor as he remembered Marilyn Laird's innuendos. They had made him feel dirty but George had been right, she hadn't tried anything. Maybe she would have eventually, he thought.

Noticing that Joe looked away, Myles felt there was more to the story but he believed Joe. "Okay. I'm going to send a technician in to help you get ready for the MRI. It shouldn't take long for what we need and right now there isn't anyone having one done, so you will be able to go right in."

.*********.

Joe lay quietly in the hospital bed. They had just brought him back from an MRI scan of his legs and he was still in the gown. He held the edge of the sheet between his fingers and ran his hand along its length feeling the material slide through his fingers. The crisp white sheets reminded him of the southern house with its crisp white linens. The click of the door drew his attention to that area of the room. Dr. Myles was coming back in with his father and brother. Summoning a small smile, he asked, "What's the verdict, Doc?"

Returning the smile, Myles answered, "As expected. It is a bone bruise. So my directions stand as I gave them earlier." Gesturing toward Fenton and Frank, he added, "I've written them up and also told your family. So I know you'll follow them." Looking from the two standing men to the young man in the bed, he asked, "Any more questions?"

Pushing himself up so he was sitting, Joe said, "Yeah, I have one. It's silly really…"

Myles frowned. "No question about your health is silly, Joe. What is it?"

"Well, it's July right?" All three standing men nodded. "Football practice starts the beginning of August. Will I be able to practice?"

Myles could almost feel the relief from the father and brother beside him. Talk of whippings, animal traps, and survival weren't things the average teenager talked about. Football practice was. Smiling at Joe, he said, "What did I say about your leg guiding your decisions? I don't think that the beginning of August will be enough time. However, if they will let you be on the team without doing the full round of football practices, then I'd say you can practice and play starting in September." He saw Joe let out a relieved breath. "Before you decide you're ready, go to your regular doctor. They may want to do another MRI to check on the healing."

"We'll be sure to do that, Dr. Myles." Fenton said as he smiled at his younger son.

"Thank you, doctor," Joe said. Turning to his father and brother, he asked, "If you'll step out for a minute, I'll be dressed in no time and we can leave."

Fenton turned to the doctor who nodded his agreement. "Then we'll be right outside. Just call."

Stepping outside with the doctor, Frank who had been rather quiet asked, "He seems okay."

"He's a remarkable young man. I don't even know the whole story and I can tell that." Looking at the Hardys, Dr. Myles said, "Make sure he has opportunities to talk. I know you'll set up the therapy, but he may just want to talk to you. Some of the things he talks about may be difficult for you to hear, but don't stop him. Let him talk."

Frank thought about the report Dr. Myles gave them while Joe was having his MRI. His brother had been physically and emotionally tortured for six weeks. No matter how difficult, he'd listen to anything Joe had to say.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** There have been a couple of requests for a chapter having Joe talk with Frank about what happened. I am considering having that as a chapter in my next story, but it won't be here. For now, just go with the thought that Frank knows most of what happened because he listened to the debriefing and access to the transcription. Got to give both of them a little time. ;-)

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight**

The three Hardy men were at the DTW airport on the edge of Detroit waiting for their flight two mornings later. The previous day and a half Joe had been debriefed and Fenton and Frank had paled as they listened in another room to Joe's statements. Now they were going home. The FBI might have more questions as arrests were made and cases went to trial. It was a good possibility that Joe might have to testify. All three of them dreaded that possibility.

As far as Fenton was concerned, he was fine with the criminals plea bargaining, as long as they got a stiff sentence. He didn't want Joe going through trial after trial reliving it and having to face the publicity that would come with it. Journalists were already clamoring to speak with the trafficking victims that had been recovered and Joe Hardy was at the top of the list for most wanted interview. Joe was the one who provided the information that led to Jonathan Byrd that in turn led to Harold Norwood. Norwood's records brought all the buyers out into the light. Most of the buyers were into sexual and/or physical abuse, but Joe's buyer was different. Laird was different and different meant ratings and sales.

Fenton sat in his seat on the plane. They had boarded before the other passengers as Joe had his crutches. So now they were waiting on everyone else to be seated. Fenton had the aisle seat and Frank had the window. Joe had indicated he wanted to sit between them. It wasn't the most comfortable seat in terms of room for his tall and still growing body, but it was most comfortable in how it made him feel. That was what Fenton wanted to insure. He wanted Joe to feel safe.

It wasn't long after take-off that the seat in front of Joe leaned back, making his knees practically touch the seat in front. He turned with a wry grin to his father and said, "Maybe I'll take the aisle after all, Dad."

Fenton grinned back. "Anything you want, Joe. Anything at all."

Joe leaned his seat back a little. "Nah, I think I'm good here." Closing his eyes, he fell asleep quickly.

Looking across his brother's sleeping form, Frank said, "He's still tired."

Fenton nodded, "He's tired of being questioned and asked to relive everything."

Uncertain about what he was going to say, Frank hesitated as he spoke, "Um, Dad…"

Fenton waited and when Frank didn't continue but looked to the side, he prompted, "Yes, Frank?"

"Well, um. This morning when you were finishing the check-out at the hotel…"

"Yes."

"Well, Joe told me he's worried about mom."

Fenton frowned. "Why is he worried? She's ecstatic." Fenton stopped. _She IS ecstatic_.

"Yeah, well, that's what he's worried about. He thinks he'll be overwhelmed by mom and her doting on him. He's worried that she's going to smother him. And," he paused for a minute, "he doesn't really want to talk to her about what happened."

Fenton's hazel eyes moved to look at the sleeping peaceful form of his son. "He doesn't need for us to cause him more worry. I'll talk to Laura…." He frowned. Laura was meeting them at the airport. She couldn't wait to see Joe. He sighed. He couldn't make a call to her, but he could send her an email. He prayed that it would come across the right way… if it didn't, he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight with an angry momma bear sleeping upstairs. "I'm sending her an email. Hopefully she'll take it the right way."

Frank winced. He wished he had told his father earlier so he could have called their mother in person. But Joe had stuck to him like glue from the moment they left the hotel. Like his dad, he hoped his mom understood.

They were getting ready to land when Frank gently shook Joe's shoulder. "Wake up baby brother." He saw one of Joe's eyes open and then close. He smiled thinking that his brother's sleeping habits were one thing that hadn't changed. "Come on, I know you're awake. You might as well sit up because your neck is going to be killing you from the way you've been sleeping on it."

Joe raised his seat and as sat up, he rubbed his neck and said, '"Ow."

"Told ya," Frank snickered.

Joe gave him the evil eye and said, "You could have put a pillow under my head."

"What? And risked waking sleeping beauty?" Frank had wanted to put a pillow under Joe's head but he really didn't want to risk waking him. Joe needed his rest. Returning to Bayport was going to be exhausting in its own way.

Smiling, Joe said, "That's okay. Since I'll be on my crutches, you'll need to take all the luggage."

Frank laughed. There really wasn't a lot of luggage. He and his father had traveled light and they had bought Joe a few things in Detroit for him to wear. All of their things were in just two medium suitcases and one carry-on. "That's okay with me, brother."

When they made it to the luggage pick-up, there was Laura. Con Riley had accompanied her to make sure she wasn't harassed in case some of the media learned of Joe's return.

Laura watched her husband and two sons come down the escalator. She studied Joe's face and his body language. She had been told of his injuries and Fenton had emailed her to contain her exuberance just a little if she could. Overall, she thought Joe looked okay. This wasn't his first rodeo, so to speak, with crutches. When he reached the bottom, and started toward her, she saw the nervousness on his face. He was back. Her son was back. God had given her the miracle she had prayed for. She'd contain her exuberance later. For right now, she needed to hold him. A huge smile blossomed on her face as she ran to Joe and almost knocked him down as she flung her arms up and around his neck. Frank had put a steadying hand on his brother's back as their mother crashed into him.

Fenton watched Joe carefully. Laura had been restrained and then she couldn't control it. He couldn't blame her. Watching Joe's face, he saw the emotion go from nervousness to fear and then he relaxed. Whatever Laura was saying to him, it was working. Finally, he saw Joe smile.

Releasing her son, she nodded to him as they moved to the luggage carousel. Her hand was on his arm or on his back at all times. She was afraid to let go completely. Afraid that he would disappear again and this time she wouldn't get him back. But she did have to let go when they got into the car. The van would have been easier, but no one wanted to prompt bad memories for Joe as soon as they got home. So Fenton and Laura got into the front with the boys in the back. These were more pleasant kinds of memories.

As Fenton heard the boys laughing and talking in the back, he quietly asked Laura, "What did you say to him?"

With a quick glance to the back, she looked at her husband. "I told him that I loved him and that while I would try not to smother him, I still might do it for awhile." She paused while Fenton laughed. "I also told him that I already knew what happened and he could talk as much or as little as he wanted to me. He knows I'm okay with however much he wants to talk or not to talk." Her eyes turned to the road in front of her.

"Thank you, Laura," Fenton said softly.

Confused, Laura turned her eyes that were a shade or two lighter than Joe's back to her husband's strong profile. "What for?"

A smile formed on Fenton's lips, "For not going all momma bear on me for sending you that email."

A tinkling laugh came from Laura that even drew the boy's attention. "Oh, don't worry, Fenton, the day is still young. I may yet find something else to stir my ire." With that they both laughed. It was a wonderful release that neither of them had felt for almost two months.


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters. I do have some OCs though that are mine.

 **Rating/Setting:** Rating is T. Setting is close to blue-spine. Frank is 17, Joe is 16.

 **Author's Notes:** So ends my longest HB story to date. I hope you enjoyed it. And in case you are wondering, I am on Chapter Ten of the sequel but I won't post before I have completed it. Thank you for your wonderful support and reviews! ;-D

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine**

When they arrived home near lunchtime, Laura had fussed around Joe. He had just smiled at her as she rushed around getting things for him and asking if he needed anything. Joe knew she was trying not to hover or to smother, but she was coming close. He had already spoken to his father yesterday about seeing Iola. The two of them had talked briefly on the phone while he was in Detroit. But he had an almost physical need to see her. To make sure that she was okay. That Norwood hadn't lied to him when he said they wouldn't harm her. He didn't think everyone was covering up something, so she had to be okay… right?

Joe looked to his father. "Can we leave now?"

Fenton glanced at the clock. They would be about fifteen minutes early if they left now. Let me call James and Chloe and see if it will be a problem. In just a minute, he was off the phone saying they could leave. Once again the Hardy's headed toward the sedan. In fact, Laura was already in the front seat. As Fenton rounded the car he saw Joe looking at the van.

"Everything okay, Joe?" Fenton asked casually.

"Can we take the van? It'll be easier for me to get in and out of." His eyes remained on the dark colored vehicle.

Frank walked up beside Joe as their mother opened her door and stood beside the car. "Are you sure you want to do that? We'll be taking the road that you were kidnapped on."

"Iola goes up and down that road all the time I'm sure. If she can do it, I can too. It's just a road and this is our van. I'm not going to let memories run my life." Joe said evenly as he turned from the van to look up at his brother. Frank still had him by a few inches, but Joe was catching up to his brother's height. Frank had only grown an inch in the last year while Joe had grown almost three.

Frank looked to his father who nodded his agreement and closed the sedan door.

The family moved quietly over to the van and Laura got in the back and then Joe after her. Fenton sat up front while Frank drove. The family was rather quiet on the drive. Each going through their own memories of the event and reliving them.

As Frank drove past the spot where they had been stopped, Frank said, "They finished the work on this section of the road about two weeks ago." The van drove smoothly over the fresh pavement. No sign of what occurred in the spot remained.

Pulling up in front of the house, the Mortons minus Iola were all on the front porch. They all came down to greet the Hardys.

Joe looked for Iola. Chloe saw his searching gaze and said, "She's in the back by the creek. She said she wanted to talk to you there, but to call her if you couldn't get back there with your crutches."

Aware that all eyes were on him, Joe said, "No, I can do it. Thanks, Mrs. Morton." Swinging his crutches around, he moved toward the back of the house. He was aware that Frank was following him and he stopped and looked back. "I can do this, Frank." He knew that Frank only wanted to help, but even if he didn't have the crutches, he could get to the creek and Iola. After all, he had been on the run with this leg and one crutch in a forest. Going thirty yards or so over fairly even terrain with two crutches would be a breeze.

Frank stopped. His brother was right. He could do this. It was Frank that had the problem. He had failed to protect Joe before; he didn't want to fail again. But this wasn't something that Joe needed protection from. "Okay. I'm heading in to see Chet."

Knowing his brother would do as he said, Joe began moving in the direction of the creek again. "Tell him we'll be in in a little while."

"Sure," Frank called after him.

Joe headed over the small rise and skirted along the edge of the trees. He knew where he'd find Iola. And there she was, sitting high up on the bank where they usually entered the creek for swimming. The rhythmic sounds of his crutches as he moved toward her made a distinctive sound that drew her attention. "I guess there's no sneaking up on you with these things." He stopped about ten feet away from her.

Iola's eyes watched Joe intently. He sounded like Joe and he looked like Joe. Standing slowly, she brushed off the grass and twigs that had stuck to her shorts and legs. Joe was wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts and brown leather sandals. His shirt was a light green tee with their high school logo on it. There were no cuts or bandages that she could see. His left wrist looked bruised, but other than that he looked fine… but the crutches were there for a reason.

Joe could see her figuring things out. He had expected her to rush him like his mom, but she was being much more methodical. Perhaps she was having just as much trouble believing this was real as he was.

"Why do you have crutches?" When she had been told that Joe was found, Mr. Hardy had just indicated there were some minor injuries.

Extending his right leg toward her, he answered, "I have a bone bruise on my right tibia. It can… it can hurt quite a bit." Joe couldn't help his stammer.

Iola's voice was soft, "How did you get it?" She stepped closer to him.

"I was running and I stepped in… I stepped in a trap." The words came out in a rush after a slight pause and his breathing quickened.

Iola rushed forward to hold him tight, laying her cheek against his chest. This was Joe. This was her Joe. He wasn't the same guy she went to the movies that night with. She had changed and he had too. Pretending everything was okay wouldn't take them back to where they were. They would move on from where they were now. He needed to know that she didn't expect him to be the same… because she wasn't either.

An hour later, Joe lay with his head in Iola's lap as she sat leaning against the tree. A cool breeze was blowing and she was moving strands of hair off of his forehead. They both found the situation immensely satisfying. Iola had told him what had happened to her since they parted and he had done the same. Neither spared details about the pain they had felt physically and emotionally.

Joe opened his eyes and looked up into her beautiful green ones. He lifted a hand and ran a finger from the corner of her eye down her jaw to her chin and then dropped his hand back to the ground. "I would have killed him if there was a bullet."

"It wouldn't change how I feel about you."

"I would have killed a man," Joe repeated as if she hadn't heard him correctly.

Her eyes still on his, she said softly, "In a way, I wish you had." Then she saw it. It wasn't that he needed someone to say that it was okay that he could have shot a man. Joe was looking for someone to say that it was okay that he wanted to kill him.

Joe closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. She understood. He had been feeling guilty that he had wanted Laird to die. He felt her hands on his face again as she traced his face from the corner of his eye to his chin, just like he had. Opening his eyes, he looked into hers.

"Tell Frank. He won't judge you." Iola's words held conviction that Joe didn't feel. The brothers had always been taught, and believed, that life was sacred. It wasn't something you took lightly.

"How do you know?" he whispered.

Iola looked up and at the creek. "One day after Frank and I started back to school, he came out to this very spot and found me sitting here. We talked and I told him that if I could have, I would have killed those people who kidnapped us. What they did to us… what they did to so many others… what they would continue to do with no remorse…. I felt that I could have killed them and lived quite well with the memory."

"But you didn't have a gun in your hand like I did," Joe rationalized.

Her head tilted to the side as she looked back down at him and a long strand of brown hair swung across her face. Joe reached up and tucked it back behind her ear.

"Maybe not, but in my mind I have killed them over a hundred times." Iola looked back away. "I'm not saying I'm proud of these things. I'm not boasting about it. But it's how I felt and I won't be ashamed of that. I didn't do anything that was shameful. They did. You, Joe Hardy, are the victim not them."

"Do you still think about doing it?" Joe asked.

Iola's head tilted to the side as she thought about it. "Since I received the phone call that you were alive… no, not really. I want to move past what happened. I won't… we won't forget it, but I'm seeing a therapist and I'm not going to dwell on it. I won't give them that power over me." She looked down into his eyes. "I've moved past revenge and I'm working on forgiveness now."

As he lay there looking up at her pixie face, Joe was amazed at her strength. He wasn't at a place yet where he could think about forgiveness. He prayed that he too would get there. Eyes locked on hers, he knew how much they had changed. He pushed himself up and moved to sit beside her but facing her. Reaching out, he put a hand behind her neck and pulled her gently to him. His lips met hers in a gentle soft kiss. As he pulled away, he said, "Thank you." It was a thank you for understanding him; a thank you for listening. It was a thank you for so many things, all of which didn't need to be spoken to be heard.

She smiled into his eyes that were only inches away. "Do you remember back when we were in fifth grade and I kissed you back at the picnic table?" She smiled more when a red flush crept into his cheeks.

"How could I forget that?" he answered sheepishly. "It was the first time you kissed me."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"I don't know," Joe's brow wrinkled. "Was it something about the bully?"

"In a way. I told you, 'Thank you for protecting me.'" She looked seriously into his eyes. "I'm saying it again now. Thank you, Joe." Placing a quick kiss on his lips, she leaned back and said, "Are you ready to go back to the house?"

Knowing that everyone, and especially Frank, would want to know how they were doing, he sighed. It would be nice to stay out here longer. "Yeah, I guess so." Iola helped him to his feet and handed him his crutches. As they moved back toward the house, Joe asked, "Do you think we could sit and talk under the tree some more this summer?"

"I'd love to, Joe." Iola smiled broadly as she walked beside him. They were going to be fine, she decided. Together, they'd be fine.

.*********.

That night after supper when the Hardys had returned home, Joe went out and sat in a chair on the deck watching the sun set through the trees. He heard the door open and saw that his brother had come out to join him. "Anyone else coming?" Joe asked in a somewhat joking manner. When he and Iola had returned to the house, it was obvious that his mother had been anxious. She had managed to curb her urge to latch on to him, but Joe had felt it.

Frank let out a chuckle. "Dad managed to convince Mom that you're safe on the deck. Now if you venture into the front yard, you'll need to have two escorts, preferably armed."

Joe laughed as Frank pulled out a chair and sat down. They sat in silence for a minute. Joe knew that Frank wouldn't pry. He thought back to what Iola had told him. She had told him to tell Frank. Maybe she was right. Drawing a deep breath, Joe said, "Frank, can I tell you something?"

"Anything, Joe."

And so Joe explained his feelings of guilt and just like Iola promised, Frank didn't judge. He listened and affirmed Joe.

"Nothing will change how I feel about you, Joe. I still feel the same about you. Even if you had killed him just because you wanted to end the pain, I would still love you." Frank's voice grew raspy with emotion. "You're my brother and that doesn't change."

Joe felt the pressure of guilt that had been weighing him down lift off of him. He drew a deep free breath and relaxed his tense muscles. Perhaps the guilty feelings would come back. If they did, he'd still have Iola, his parents, and Frank. And Joe decided he could live with that.


End file.
